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POETICAL VAGARIES; 



INCLUDING * ' 



BROAD GRINS: 



I&eohgb CoiMAir, the younger 



BALTIMORE .* 

R. Gamble, Print, 






G lfT 
BSTATt OF 
, TWMAS EWWO ffl 
/ OCTOBtR 23, 1941 
tHE UBRARY OF COHOW* 




i r 



S% 






ADVERTISEMENT. 

XETaot the Reader, whose senses have been deligfct- 
fully intoxicated by that Scottish Circe, the Lady of the 
lake, accuse the present Author of plagiary. The wild 
Irish, and wild Caledonians, bore a great resemblance to 
each other, in very many particulars ;— and two Poets, 
who have any " method in their madness." may, natural- 
ly, fall into similar strains of wildness, when handling 
subjects equally wild, and remote.— 'Tis a wild World, my 
wasters !— The Author of this Work, has, merely, adopt- 
ed the Style which a Northern Genius has, of late, ren- 
der'd the Fashion, and the Rage:— He has attempted, in 
this instance to become a Maker of the Modern-Antique, 
a Vender of a new Coinage, begrimed with the ancient 
aerugo ; a Constructor of the d<ar pretty Sublime, and 
sweet little Grand ;— a Writer of a Short Epick Poem, 
.Ktiff ' J with RomaaucJs SakKnackeries : and intertaii- 



Vlll. 
ed with Songs, and Ballads, & la mode de Chevy Chacc, 
Edora o Gordon, Sir Lancelot du Lake, &c. &c. How 
is such a Writer to be class'd ? 

* Inter quos referendut erit ? veteresne Poetas ? 
An quos ct proesefb et postera respuet cetas? n 

HOR. EPIST. MLIB. 2. 



TO THE AUTHOR 

OF 

THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

WHOSE GIETED MUSE 
Meeds no meretricious colourings upon her beauty ; 

WHOSE CHARMS 

Might disdain a rtil of obsoleteness to obscure them ; 

THE FOLLOWING POEM, 

OF 

THE LADY OF THE WRECK, 

OR 

CASTLE BLARNEYGIG, 

Is respectfully inscribed, 
ay 
IHS ADMIRES. 



CONTENTS. 

Dedication, ------- 5 

Adversisement ------ y 

Ladyofthe Wreck; or Castle Blarneygig, - - 9 

An Ode to We ; a Hackney'd Critic, - 54 

Low ambition, or the life and death of Mr. Daw, 57 

A recking with time, - 63 

Two Parsons or the tale of a Shirt, - - - 74 

BROAD GRINS. 

Introduction, ------- 05 

The Water Fiends, ----- Qg 

The New Castle Apothecary, 106 

Lodgings for Single Gentlemen, - - - 110 

The Knight and the Friar,— (PART 1st.) - - 113 

(PART 2d.) - 128 

The Elder Brother, ------ 146 



THE LADY OF THE WRECK; 

OR 

CASTLE BLARNEYGIG. 



"quajdam nirais, antique— pleraque dura."' 

Hor. 

" Thus have I (my dear countrymen) with incredible 
■■•' diligcn r. discover'd the hidden source* of the BA- 
or, as I may say, broke open the abysses of this 
GREAT DEEP." ., 

Mart. Scrib. mepi BAGOTZ. 



CANTO FIRST. 

HARP of the PATS !* that rotting long hast lain 

On the soft bosom of St. Allen's bog, 
And, when the Wind had fits,t would* twang a strain, 

Till envious mud did all thy music clog, 

* ' : If it be allowed that the Harp was in use among 
tlie ancient Caledonians, it can hardly be denied that they 
borrowed it from the Irish. w -Walker's Historical me- 
moirs oi Irish Bards. 

t The same idea occurs in the beautiful opening of 
he Lady of the Lake ;-where it is said that the Scotch 
Harp hung 

" On the witch-elm that shades St. Fillan's Spring ;" 

and "flung its numbers"' down the "fitful breeze." In- 

S * W »° le ,°f th , e present Evocation to the Irish 
mip is a tollerablv close, though humble, imitation of the 
commencement of the Poem above-mentioned. 



10 

E/en just as toe much pudding choaks a dog;.... 
Oh ! Paddy's Harp ! still sleeps thine accent's pride .' 

Will nobody be giving it a jog ? 
Still must thou silent be, as when espied 
Upon an Irish old, old halfpenny's back side ? 

Not thus, when Erin wore a wilder shape, 

Thy voice was speechless in an Irish Town ; 
It roused the hopeless Lover to a rape, 

Made timorous tenants knock proud Landlords down ; 
"Whiskey, at every pause, the feast did crown ; 

Now, by the powers ! the fun was never slack ; 
The O's and Macs were frisky as the Clown ; 

For, still, the burthen (growing now a back) 
Was Hubbaboo, dear joys ! and Didderoo ! and Whack! 

Och ! wake again ! arrah, get up once more ! 

And let me venture just to take a thrum : 

Wake, and bedamntd ! you've had a tightish snote!— 

Perhaps I'd better let you lie there dumb : 
Yet, if one Ballad-Monger like my strain, 

Though I've a clumsy finger and a thumb, 
I sha'n't have jingled Minstrelsy in vain ; 

So, Wizard be alive ! old Witch get up again 

i. 

THE Pig, at eve, was lank and faint, 
Where Patrick is the Patron Saint, 
And with his peasant Lord, unfed, 
Went, grunting, to their common bed : 
But when black Night her sables threw 
Athwart the slough of Ballyloo,* 

* In the latest Chorography of Ireland, Ballyloo is not 
to be found in the Maps. Various other places, men- 
tioned it. this Poem, are, also, totally omitted. But 

even the discov.ries of Captain Lemuel Gulliver, so long 
ajo as the time of ^ueen Anne, are looked (or m vain, 



11 

The deep-mouth'd thunder's angry r*ar 
Rebellow'd on the Ulster shore, 
And hailstones pelted, mighty big, 
The towers of Castle Blarney gig. 

II. 

Aloft, where, erst, tyrannic Fear 
Placed lynx-eyed Vigilance to peer,* 
And listen in the dunnest dark, 
Whether a feudal cur should bark, 
Drunk, deaf, and purblind, in the din, 
Dozed the old Warder, Rory Flinn. 
Before the antique hall's turf fire, 
Was stretch'd the porter, Con Macguixe, 
Who, at stout Usquebagh's command, 
Snored with his prokerf in his hand. 
Kathlane, who very ill could dish 
Wild Ballyshannon's springy fish, 
And Sheelah, who had lately come 
To Spider-brush, from Blunderdrura, 
Were dreaming, in a stolen embrace, 
With Roger Moyle, and Redmond Scrace ; 

except in the Charts which are bound up in his own pub- 
lication. Shameful negligence ? 

* i. e. The Watch-Tower ; — -in which a man was for 
merly stationed to give notice of danger, real or appre- 
hended, from the approach of any party, or parties, what- 
ever. No vestige of this personage's office remains in 

the rural abodes of our modern Nobil'ty. In, and around 
the metropolis, and in great provincial Towns, and their 

suburbs, Warders, still exist: but they are situated on 

the ground ; on the outside of Mansions, which they pre- 
tend, and are not supposed to guard ; in small Wooden 

Boxes, just capable of containing them wherein they 

doze, as conveniently as their predecessor, Rory Flinn, in 
this Poem recorded. 

f Fflbernice, proker— — Anghci poker. 



12 

And all the vassals' senses lay 

Drowri'd in the whiskey ofthe day. 

Still raged the stor:n ; — still records run 
All slept in Blarneygig, save one, 
Lord ofthe Castle and Domain, 
Sir Tooleywhagg O'Shaughnashane.* 

III. 

Ke heard, or thought he heard, a sound, 
Pierce through the hurly-burly round ; 

A shriek a yell he knew not what—— 

So from his night-eouch up he got; 
Then through a peep-hole popt his head, 

And thus Sir Tooley whag he said ; 

Standing the while, though something loth, 
In a short shirt of Irish cloth. 

IV. 

" Spake out " he cried. " whose voice is that, 
Shrill as a Tom Balruddery Cat If 
Come you a Fairy, good or ill, 
My Bullocks lo presarve or kill? 

* After a certain period, Irishmen adopted surnames, 
for the convenience of designation ; and to prevent that 
confusion from which they have, u> this day, kept so pro- 
verbially clear. Hence arose the ' Os and Macs ' mean- 
ing the ' sons of? Ihe O'Tooles were formerly of high 
celebrity in Ireland, in times of convulsion and insurrec- 
tion ; Military of course; even the Clergy fought. Ware 
informs us (referring to a piece of Biography, published 
by Purius,) tlmt "Laurence O" Tool had an arciibishoprick." 
It was a Dublin one. From the surname of the Knight 
of Blarneygig Castle, it is probable that the families of 
the O* l'ooles and O'Shauglmashanes were allied, by in- 
ter-marriages. 

t "Balruddery Cat." The squall of a Balruddery 

Cat is very annoying to those whose organs of hearing 

are unaccustomed to it : and equally so is the squall 

of an> Cat in other place; which may somewhat tend 

to diminish the peculiarity of the Cats of Balruddery. 



13 

Or only does a Bansliee* prowl 

For somebody's departing sow! ? ■ 

Haply you lurk, from Feomen nigh, 
My sea-side Castle's strength to spy, 
Who, on the morrow, may think fit 
To bother Blarneygig a bit : 

Oeh ! if the latter soon as light 

Peeps over Murroughlauglilin's height, 
My Kernes and Gallowglassest here, 
Will shew you sport with SpartheJ: and Spear 
And, sallying on my spalpeen Foe, 
Shout— Forroeh ! Forroch !fl Bugg-abo."§ 

* " A Banshee ;"- a friendly Spirit, that gave a strong 

hint of an approaching death, in an Irish Family. There 
has been, it seems, a similar supernatural retainer in Scot- 
land ; denominated by my great North- British Prototype 
in Poetry, a Bcn-Shie : — -the last syllable, possibly, from 
the French chiev. 

t " The Irish of the middle ages had two sorts of Foot- 
men, sonic- called Gallowglasses, armed, ccc. ccc. 

Others lighter armed, called Turbiculi, by some 1 imburii, 
but commonly Kerns." Ware's Autiq". and Hisl. of Ire- 
land. 

% A Sparthe was an Irish weapon of war. 

1! Forroch, Farah, or Ferragh. "When they (the 

Irish) approached the enemy so near as to be heard, they 

used this martial cry Farrah I Farrah !'' Ware's 

Antiq. and Hist, of Ireland. 

" The vulgar Irish suppose this War-Song to have been 
Forroch, or Ferragh." Spencer's Suae of Ireland. 

§ Bugg-abo. They likewise call upon their Cap- 
tain's name, or the word of their Ancestors : as under 

O'Neale they cry Landarg-abo, ike. ike. Spencer. 

In short, Abo, was a term of exultation, tantamount 
to ' forever!' tacked to and shouted with, the principal 

part of the Estate which their Chieftain possessed. It 

is to be supposed, therefore, that a gnat part of Sir 
Tooleywhagg O'Shaughiiashane's territory wasBUGG. 



14 

V. 

Seavee had he said, when lightning play'd 

Full on the features of a Maid, 

Who, in the elemental shock, 

Stuck, like a limpet to the rock. 

Rear'd o'er the surface of the flood, 

Her pallid cheek, her lip's life-blood. 

The blended colours seem'd to show 

Of pearl, and coral, from below, 

Save that her dank dishevell'd hair 

Hah" hid her breast, her breast was bare ;— — 

What could be seen, look'd firm and white. 

As the rude rock she held so tight : 

Bare 100 was all her beauteous form, 

Strip: by the unrelenting storm ! 

But, half in sea, and half on shore, 

A liquid petticoat she wore ; 

And, as the undulating surge, 

Did. to and fro, its fury urge, 

Just now and then, it left the tips 

Expos'd, of two round polish'd hips ; 

All downward else, her blush to save, 

Lay cover'd by the wanton wave : 

But oh ! her voice, from out the main, 
Seem'd sweeter than a Syren's strain ; 
And, while below the cliff she citing, 
Thus to Sir Tooleywhagg she sung. 

VI. 

SONG. 
1 ' What linen so fine has the bride put otf~r 

What torch is her chamber briglrt'ning 
The bride is adrift, in a Bait-water shift, 

And her candles are flashe§ of lightning. 



15 

! Thady Ran ! the Isle of Man* 
I left and suil'd tor you ; 

1 am very lil luek d, all night to be duck'd. 
For keeping my promise true ! 

O! Thady, your bride cannot sleep by your side., 

Go to oed to another lady ; 

I must lie in the dark, with a whale or a shark. 

Instead of my darling Thady." 

VII. 

She paus'd for to the rock rush'd in 

A booming wave, above her chin ; 

"Which, haply, work'd her body's good, 
For wholesome flows the briny flood, 
And if the mouth a pint have caught, 
A fine aperient 'tis thought. 
Sir Tooleywhagg, who heard the pause,t 
Was little conscious of the cause, 
For now pitch-dark was all the shore, 
And much lie wish'd for an encore. 
Soon did the duck'd, recovering Fair, 

In varied strains, renew her air ; 

Renew'd it, much in hopes to gain 
Sir Tooleywhagg O'Shaughnashane : 
For, when he first put out his head, 
Grac'd with a night-cap dy'd in red, 
Fire, that fore-runs the thunder-clap, 
Blaz'd on him, redder than his cap. 
5 T\vas then she mark'd his face and mein, 
Plain through his peep-hole to be seen ; 

* •' Alice Brand, my native land, 
I ieft for love of you." 
See the admirable Poem of the Lady of the Lake. 

t The power of hearing a pause' is a gift peculiar to 
the natives of Ireland. 



io 



His eagle eye's commanding glance, 
His shoulders' broad, superb expanse, 
His strong, uncover'd, ample chest, 
That look'd like so much brawn undrest ; 
All that, in days of Chivalry, 
Fair Ladies wish'd their Knights to be ! 

She mark'd and murmur'd. sighing deep, 

While through his hole he crouch'd to creep, 
" If, stooping, with such charms he's de-ckt, 
Gods ! what a man when he's erect ! 
Yea, on a modest maiden's word, 
This, this must be the Castle's Lord." 

VIII. 

Well, too, she mark'd with anxious eyes, 
A bucket of capacious size, 
Suspended o'er the craggy beach, 
And close within the Chieftain'* reach ; 
With many a roll of cord to be 

Let down at pleasure to the sea ; 

Which for the Castle's use was made, 

Whene'er it suffered a blockade; 

To draw up succours from the strand, 

When the besieger press'd on land : 

And thus her plaint she warbled strong, 
In all the euphony of song: 

SONG CONTINUED. 

" Chieftain, if thou canst at all 

For a shipwreck'd Lady angle, 
Clew me up thy Castle wall, 

Near thee doth a bucket dangle. 

Chieftain ' leave me not to drown 
Save a Maid without a smicket 



17 

If the bucket come not down, 
Soon shall I be doonvd to kick it.* 

Quick, Oh ! quick unwind the rope ! 
If thou answer'st to my hope, 
Then on thee, when Fate is frowning', 
May a rope prevent thy drowning 1" 

IX 

Ye sons of Erin ! well 'tis known 
Your nature to the Sex is prone. 
South from Lough Swilley to Tramore, 
From Kilcock to Knockealy's shore,"f 
Can ye resist, throughout your Isle, 

A Woman's tear a Woman's smile 

And when did Beauty pour in vain 
Her plaint to an O'Shaughnashane ? 
When did a Maid, without a rag, 
Fail to affect a Tooleywhagg ? 
Marsh creek'd the rope in its descent, 
And waggling down the bucket went ; 
With fresh provision to be fraught, 
Fresher than ever yet it brought ! 

It reach'd the rock ; with eager hope, 

The sea-drench 'd Fair One caught the rope, 
She sprang, the bucket's mouth to win, 
And, light as gossamar, leapt in I 

* This proves that the modern slnii!? phrase of kicking 
the bucket— ?'. e. to die, is borrowed from our ancestors. 
Multa Renascentur, he. 

+ These places are selected as cardinal poii<r«; beinc; 

nearly the extremities of the North, East, West, and 

South, o^the Tslnnd. 

" Kilcock is further from the Sea 
Thin any of the other three/'— Atiom 

B % 



18 
x. 

Gaily tkc Chieftain plied his arms, 
Winding his welcome load of charms ; 
Atevery twist, the dizzied Fair 
Rose, vaccillating, in the air. 

He heard her shriek soon heard her gasp 

Then caught the trembler in his grasp. 
Quick to the couch his prize he bore, 
And chaf'd her shivering limbs all o'er : 
Strenuous to make the color seek 
Its wonted course upon its cheek, 
So well he minister'd his aid 
To comfort and revive the Maid, 
That, ere the Sky-lark plumed his wing, 
The Maid was quite another tiling ! 

XI. 
Now on the oaks of Faughanvai!.* 
Dash'd in cold globules by the gale, 
The pendent thunder-drops of Night 
Glitter'd like gems, in orient light. 
Now vanish'd from the Chieftain's room, 
The winking lamp's propitious gloom, 
And on the Pair One, as she lay, 
Morn's golden Tell-tale shot his ray. 
Ah ! when did Sun. declining, leave 
No Swain forsworn, twist dawn and eve ? 
When did the Day-Spring' glimmer find, "1 
Twixt eve and dawn, no Woman's mind J> 
Had veer'd, like Dunfanaguy'st wind ? j 

* This place may be found in the Maps. 

t This spot is also noticed in the Maps of Ireland ; and 
the wind has been observed to rary there quite as much a* 
many situation upon the sea-coast. 



19 

Bent, blushing o'er the Chieftain's Reels. 

Thus spoke the Lady of the Wreck. 

XII. 
"Oh? mighty Chief ! Oh! potent man: 
Send me not now, to Thady Rami ! 
What though (when from my native Isle 
He sail'd, where he had moor'd awhile,; 
I rashly pledg'd my maiden truth 
To follow soon that Ulster Youth, 
Then left my home his home to seek, 
Near the cascades of moist Belleek ;* 
What though he hoped the last night's 
Would waft into his arms a bride ; 
If, now, such silly bonds I burst, 
'Twas he was the deceiver first ; 
'Twas Thady Rann decoy'd and play\l 
Upon the greenness of a maid ; 
Who, by her ancient parents mew'd, 
Scarce any face but his had view'd, 
And gazed in ignorant surprise, 
On his red locks and vacant eyes. 

Sudden my change ! but tell me tro 

(For Oh ! I feel 'tis wrought by you !) 
Does female Judgment, as 'tis callM 
By all the wrinkled and the bald, 
Creep o'er the mind by dull degrees ? 
Is Judgment slow in growth as Trees ? 
Or come? it not, like lightning's flaine 3 
Darting direct into our frame? 

* Passing then, through the village of Belli . 
served a succession of small cascades contin 

two miles." 'I wiss's Tour in Ireland. 

testimony is- indisputable. The Ladies and G . 

of Erin, "may 

he experkiiveu. even after his taking* leave of the 



20 

Sure 'tis the last ; and sure, since night, 

My hour's arrived to judge aright. 

And why, Discernment's heights to climb, 

Must Woman mount the steps of Time ? 

Age grasps, with her experienced lore, 

But what young Talent grasps before ; 

And no more knows the Matron dunce, 

Than Penetration shews at once. 

Oh! Chief! since shipwieck'd on your shore, 

I feel myself Myself no more, 

Since I am now, another I, 

Here let me ever live and die !" 

XIII. 

The Hunter, who, upon the sands 
Of Innisfallen's* islet stands. 
And marks the Stag, from steepy wood. 
Plunge panting in Killnrnevs flood, 
"While Mountains, on whose shaggy head 
Clouds from the vast Atlantic spread, 
Re-echo to the mellow sounds 
Of merry horns, and opening hounds—— 
The Hunter, then, feels less delight 
Than now, did Blarneygig's gay Knight. 
'• Darling," he said, " when Thady Rann 
Bother'd you in the Isle of Man. 
You knew not, 'ti« exceeding plain, 
Sir TooleywhaggO'Shaughnashane ; 
Knew not wl»al difference must be 
Twixt that Belleek Spalpeen and me : 
Then let not on your conscience fall 
The smallest qualm at all, at all. 

* In the lake of KHIaruev. 



21 

For your request 1 know not, I, 

How, while you ever live, you'll die, 

Unless you make (the heart o'erfull) 

What Strangers call an Irish Bull; 

If so, then live with me you may, 

And, living, die the Irish way." 

The Castle's Mistress, now array'd, 

The Lady of the Wreck was made : 

Soon did the deep Cream Cruting* twang,") 

And thus, as loud the Chorus rang. s 

The Vassals at the Banquet sang. J 

BANQUET SONG.f 
XIV. 
Hail to our Chief! now he's wet through with Whiskey ; 

Long life to the Lady come from the salt seas ! 
Strike up, blind Harpers ! skip high to be friskey J 
For what is so gay as a bag full of fleas ! 

* " Creamthine Crut, or Cream Crutin, by the name, 
imports the Harp (of Cruit) used at potations or ca- 
Bousals ; whence Cream Nuel, a noisy, drunken compa- 
ny." Vallencf. 

Although the Cream Crutin (or Harp) be extinct, 
the Cream-nual (or noisy, drunken Company) is to be 
found without any difficulty of research, in almost every 
paw of the United Empire of Great Britain. 

■f" Here is to be observed the astonishing similarity oi 
manners and customs between the Irish and Scotch, Li» 
former days. How close is 

'• Whack for O'Shaughnashanq I— Took ywhagg, ho ! 
to 

" Roderigh Vich Alpine Dhu ! ho iherhoe !" 

Sec the Lady of the Lake. 

In the present instance, 'tis a Song at a Banquet ; in 
the latter, 'tis a Song in a Boat. 'Tis merely the diffe- 
rence betwixt Wine and Water. The Vassals, on both 
occasions, express their attachment to their Chief, and 
their ardor for his Crest; one being an Evergreen Pise, 
the other a Potato. 



22 

Crest of O'Shaughnashane : 

That's a Potato [>lain 

Long may your root every Irishman know i 

Pats long have stuck to it, 

Long bid good luck to it ; 
Whack for O'Shaughnashane !— Tooleywhagg, ho 1 

XV. 
Ours is an eschulent lusty and lasting, 

No turnip, nor other weak babe of the ground : 
Waxy, or mealy, it hinders from fasting 
Half Erin's inhabitants all the year round. 
Wants the soil where 'tis flung, 
Hog's, Cow's or Horse's dung, 
Still does the Crest of O'Shaughnashane grow ; 
Shout for it, Ulster men, 
Till the bogs quake again ! 
Whack (or O'Shaughnashane, Tooley whagg, ho ! 

XVI. 
Drink, Paddies, drink to the Lady so shining ! 
While flowret shall open, and bog-trotter dig, 
So long may the sweet Rose of Beauty be twining 
Around the Potato of proud Blanieygig ! 
While the plant vegetates, 
While Whiskey recreates, 
Wash down the root, from the horns that o'erflow 
Shake your shillalahs, boys ! 
Schreeching drunk, scream your joys ! 
Wbaek for O'Shaughnashane ! Tooleywhagg, ho^ ! 



23 

XVII. 

Time rolls his course:* now seems in haste, 

And now seems slow as Cooks roll paste; 

Rolling out vows from human dust, 
Soon to be broken, soon as crust ! 
All, under Time, to ruin falls, 
Like Blarneygig's now mbulder'd walls. 
The Lover's and the Dicer's oath. 

Tic Patriot's falser far than both ! 

As Places, Luck and Love decay, 

Like fleeting visions, pa s away : 

Nay, e'en thy holy Nuns, Kildare, 

Were doom'd Time's rolling-pin to share ! 

In thy chaste glooms, though Vestals swore 

To feed a flame for evermore 

No flame unsanctifiedly light, 

But on St. Bridget's altar bright 

E'en that 3-es, e'en perpetual fire 

(At least in Ireland) could expire ; 
When England's King, the Pope to rout 
Both Fire and, Nun's at once put out.1* 
No wonder then, when three long years 
Had roll'd their course o'er mortal ears, 
The Lady of the Wreck should mark, 
Since first she swung up in the dark, 

* The Writer fears that he may here be thought to 
have stolen from the admirable Author of the Lady of 
the Lake ; he only borrows ; and not all that the Author 

had to lend for the original runs 

" lime rolls his ceaseless course ;" 
and. as every body knows Time to be ceas. less, the pre- 
sent Writer (with all his poverty of expression) felt no 
occasion to " spring a loan" for the epithet. But the 
Author above alluded to, has much to spare, and very 
much to give. 

t Giraldus Cambrensis gives an account of this perpe- 
tual fire. Henry the eighth, of England, extinguished 
it ; and turned the Nuns adrift, to go the way of all flesh. 



24 

Affection wofully to flag 

In all she prized— Sir Tooley whagg. 

XVIII. 

The grief of slighted love supprest, 

Scarce dull'd her eye, scarce heav'd her breast ; 

Or if a tear she strove to check, 

A truant tear stole down her neck, 

Itscem'd a drop that from his bill, 

The Linnet casts beside the rill, 

Flirting his sweet and tiny shower 

Upon a milkwiiite April flower; 

Or if a sigh, breathM soft and low, 

Escaped her fragrant lips, e'en so 

The zephyr will, in heat of day, 

Between two rose-leaves fan its way. 

Not thus the Knight his tedium brook'd 

Whene'er he from his peep-hole look'd. 

Oft as he look'd, still high in air, 

He saw the bucket dangling there ; 

Then heav'd no sigh, but gave a groan, 

And grunted loud " Och, Hone ! Och, Hone 

Och, Hone !" he cried, " my pleasure's cup 

Was full that night I wound her up ! 

How will that night my pleasures crown, 

If e'er it come, I wind her down !" 

Ne'er came that night of joy ; but Oh ! 

Soon came a moment full of wo ; 

A moment horror-fraught ! which oft, 

On the black peak of Klintertoft, 

Beneath whose base the waters howl, 

Is boded by the fatal owl. 

XIX. 
Who best, in castle and domain, 
Could vie with the O'Shaughnashane 



25 

Who but the Chief of stature tall, 

Baron Fitz Gallyhogmagawl ? 

The Vulture, in his sweeping flight, 

Sail'd leagues and kept his grounds in sight,: 

Nor could the swiftest Roebuck run 

Across his land twixt sun and sun; 

His towers were bosom'd high in wood, 

And at his gate fierce Wolf-Dogs stood. 

He had a daughter passing fair, 

Once buxom, blithe, and debonair ; 
A year had flown, since first it chanced, 
With Blarneygig's bold Knight she danced ; 
From that time forth to bowers she crept, 
There pined in thought, and silent wept. 
Her Father, who, from day to day, 
Observ'd his daughter's health decay, 

Questional her close ; she made a pause 

Blush'd deep, then faultering, own'd the cause 

Own'd all that made her spirits flag 

Was thinking on Sir Tooleywhagg. 

" Cease. Judy !" cried the Baron, " cease 

To grieve, for much I prize your peace 1 

A hint, although the point was nice, 

Brought the w ish'd Bridegroom in a trice J 

For both desire and interest sway'd 

The ready Knight to wed the Maid; 

And bis resolves, in accents cold, 

The Lady of the Wreck he told. 

XX. 

She heard, and palid grew her cheek, 

Nor did she soon essay to speak. 

Her fiery eyeball shot a gleam 

That scarce from mortal eye could stream : 



26 

Her ghastly form assumed the cast 

Of withering spectres when they blast.* 

At length, as tigiit his hand she grasp'd, 

And with a ring his finger clasp'd, 

A dismal hollow laugh she gave, 

Like sounds that issue from a grave, 

"Thy Bridal Couch," sheened, "bedeck 

Far from the Lady of the Wreck ; 

But, Oh ! beware ! this ring, false heart ! 

Must never from thy finger part ; 

When off 'tis ta'en" she could no more;~| 

But, headlong to the billows' roar. >■ 

Sprung from his chamber to the shore. J 
The while her fearful leap she took, 
'Tis said, the Giant's causeway shook ; 
Death on the waves to meet her roll'd, 
And wrapp'd her in a wat'ry fold. 

* This word, formerly of awful dignity, is now so vu! 
garly familiarised, thai it shocks us, every day. from tin 
mouths of low wretches, when applied to the eyes am 
limbs ot the human species. It should not, however, low 
its consequence and tbrcc, because it is abused Shake 
speare introduces it energetically, when talking of tin 
Gho^t in Ham h t ; 

" I'il cro>s it. though it blast me !" 



END OF CANTO FIRST. 



THE LADY OF THE WRECK 5 

OR 

CASTLE BLARNEYGIG. 



CANTO SECOND. 



'A Rat ! a Rat ! dead for a ducat !" Shakespeare. 

'Out, out, brief candle !" Ditto. 



I. 

il The Egg is daintiest when 'tis swallow'd new,* 
And Love is sweetest in the Honey-moon ; 

The egg grows musty, kept a whole month through, 
And marriage vows will turn to strife as soon. 

* The tournurc of thought in this Stanza, is confess- 
edly indebted to that sweet commencement of the fourth 
Canto in the Lady of the Lake ; where a Bridegroom 
" Stands a wakeful Sentinel," and then plucks k Rose. 
What a happiness ! what an elegant novelty in that idea i 

to make the Bridegroom perform the usual business 

of the Bride! to convert the expression of "plucking a 
Rose," which has hitherto been figuratively applied to the 
mystic garden irrigations oi* it Lady, into a much more 
proper matter-of-fact operation oi a gentleman. 

" The Rose is fairest when 'ti> budding new," &c. &c. 
Sec Ladvofthe Luke. tth Canto. 



28 

O butter'd egg ? best eaten with a spoon, 
Ibid your yelk glide down my throat's red lane,* 

Emblem of Love and strife in Wedlock's ! boon 
Thus spake, at breakfast, the O'Shaughnashane, 
What time his bride, in bed, napping full late was laid. 

II. 

Conceits more fond than this he pour'd.t 
Conceits with which false taste is siored ; 
Such as, of late, alas! are broach'd 
By those who have the spot ap,iroach"d 
Where Poesy, once cradled lay, 
And stolen her baby-clothes away ; 
Conceits, in Song's primeval dress, 
Of oh ! such pretty prettiness ! 
That the inveigling beldame Muse 
Seems a sham Virgin from the stews ; 
Or, in her second childhood wild, 

The doting Nurse that apes the Child. 

With such conceits, such feathery lead4"| 
Which either may be sung or said, ')• 

Mock Fancy filPd the Bridegrooms head.J 

* Younu: Norman says to the Hose, (how pretty to tail- 
to a Rose ! 

" I bid your blossoms in my bonnet wave." 

If the weather were finite calm. Ik- probably shook bi 
head, with his bonnet on : otherwise it may be' suppose 
he had much less chance of being obeyed by the rose 
than Sir Tooleywhagg in the egg, who was popping i 
down his throat with a spoon. 

t " Such fond conceit, half said, half sung.*' Lady o 

the Lake 1th Canto. 

X "O heavy lightness ! serious vanity ! 
Mis-shapen chaos of well-seeming forms ! 
Feather of Lead, i>riy;lit smoke ' 
Thus says Shakespeare of Love but tar be it fror 



29 

While the first egg-shell he scoop'd clean, 
Since he a Married Mum had been. 
'Twas only on the night before 
That Father Murtoch, of Killmore, 
Had joined him to his all in all, 
Judy Fitz Gallyhogmagav 1. 

III. 
Revered by all was Murtoch's worth, 
Though mystery involved his birth ;* 
For when his Mother, on a mat, 
Watching a corpse, at midnight, sat, 
The Body rose, and straiu'd her charms. 
Almost two minutes in its arms. 
From which embrace, too soon she found 
Her face grow long, her waist grow round :, 
Till Prudes first tattling o'er her fate, 
Bill Scorn proclaim her in a state 
Which Women wish to be, 'tis said, 
Who love their Lords, before they're dead. 



the Author of this idle Poem to speak thus, generally, et 
the Lady of the Lake ! 

* See Brian, the Priest. fLady of the Lake, Canto 

3d.) In a note relative to this personage, proving that 

the idea of his origin arose from a traditional story, a cu- 
rious passage is quoted from Macfarlane; who gives an 
account of one Gilli-Doir-MagrevoUkh This tooth-break- 
ing name signifies the Black Child, or son to the Bones. 

The Black Child's mama went to a hill one day, on a 
party of pleasure, with " both wenches and youths," to 

gather the bones of dead men ! and they made a fire 

on the spot. "At last they did all remove from the 

fire, except one maid, or wench. She being quietlie her 

alone, without anie other companie, took up her clothes 
above her knees, or thereby, to warm her— a wind did 
come and caste the ashes upon her, and she was conceiv- 
ed of ane man-child."— How much more appropriately 
than jEiieas might GHU-Doir-Magrevollkk hu>e invoked 
the " cineres et ossa parentis .'" 



30 

Exact at midnight, nine months o'er, 
A little Skeleton she bore. 
Soon as produced, amid the gloom, 
Two glow-worms crept into the room, 
Up to its skull began to rise, 
The sockets fill'd, and gave it eyes-. 
O'er every joint did spiders rove, 
Where busily their webs they wove; 
The Cabin smoke their texture thin 
Soon thicken 'd till it form'd a skin, 
" Now it may pass." the Mother cried, 
" May pass for human !" and she died. 

IV. 
This Tale was told by Age and Youth ; 
But who can vouch for Rumour's truth ? 
And yet, though falsehood quick is hatch 'd, 
; Tis certain, when the Corpse she watch'4, 

She watch'd alone or watch *d, at least, 

"With no one save a reverend Priest ; 
Whose duty 'twas to see the clay 
Mingled with kindred earth, next day. 
True, he was ruddy, tall, and stout, 

And young but then he was devdUt. 

A rigid, stanch, and upright soul, 
And excellent upon the whole. 
Much could he have divulged, but fled 
From questioning, and shook his head 
Yet, once, it hapt, when closely task'd, 
With much solemnity he asked, 
" If unbegotten 'tis by me, 
Wh»se but the Corpse's can it he ? 



31 

This speech, that spread from roof to roof, 
To Irishmen was certain proof; 

Proof that when mooted, whether Shade 

Or Substance can have forced a Maid- 
Not he who still Life's course must ran, 
But that a Dead Man gets a Son, 

V. 

The little Murtoch's early joy 

Was frolick of a Corpse's boy, 

Ne'er by a stick his hoop was whirl'd, 

But with a human thigh-bone twirl'd : 

His leaden lips a laugh exprest 

Whene'er he robb'd a Scriteh-owl's nest ; 

He scratch'd for worms when showers canie, 

And made a boding Raven tame. 

Oft with a yew-bough in hi3 hand, 

He loved upon a grave to stand, 

(His father's grave !) and there by night, 

Arrest the Bat's low wheeling flight. 

Such in his youth was Murtoch known ; 

Rut when to skinny manhood grown, 

Church zeal could scarcely fail to fire 

The offspring of a Church-Yard Sire. 

His smooth skull, whiten'd by the air, 

Unconscious of disdainful hair, 

In meek and ready baldness stood 

To court the cover of a hood. 

Soon in the Cloister's gloom he sunk, 

Among the plump, a juiceless Monk : 

Renouneingerrors, stale or fresh, 

Of (what be n*ver had) the Flesh ; 



32 

For, ever, as to prayer he stalk'd, 
His dry joints rattled as lit- walk'd, 

As years revolv'd, sage Murtoch's name; 
Stood foremost in monastic fame. 
'Twas thought, whene'er he plodded o'ee 
A volume fraught with pious lore, 
His glow-worm eye-balls, in the dark, 
Gave ample light the text to mark. 
A RtTiek "twas his pride to own, 
A precious wonder, seldom shewn ; 
A Sleeve of great Saint Patrick's clothes, 
"Whereon Mas traced Saint Patrick's Nose, 
His noble Nose, of gristly strength, 
And measuring twelve inches' length,* 
Mark'd when the Saint, to keep it warm, 
Carried his head beneath his arm, 

VI. 

But hark ? the Castle's parlour-door 
(Whose hinge no Vassal smear* d of yore, 
With smooth, subservient, supple oil, 
Its rusty lordliness to spoil) 

Now creaks the entrance to proclaim 

Of the last night's new-wedded Dame. 
How look'd the Bride ? they best can tell 
Who Nature mark, and mark her well. 
Movements there are which most reveal 
"What most they labour to conceal, 
And, in rebellion to the will, 
Make Bashfulness more bashful still. 

* After all, this is no such mighty nose to brag oh 
In Slecwkenbergiw'a time, Noses at the Promontory, beat 

St. Patrick's hollow. 



Vhe undetermined, shifting Eye., 
(That sure betrayer of the shy !) 
Which, when another's glance it meets, 
In sidelong sheepishness retreats ; 
Striving to note, what scarce it sees, °s 

With much uneasiness of ease, Y 

Chairs, tables, pictures, clouds, or trees :— J 
The Tongue, that plunges into chat, 
Flound'ring in haste from this to that, 
On service forced by nervous Fear, 
Till Nonsense comes a Volunteer, 
And proves the seat of the campaign 

Far distant from the heart or brain ; 

And, when the Tongue from fight withdraws, 

The silly, the distressing pause ! 

Such symptoms shew'd yea, shew'd them air, 

Late Miss Fitz Gaily hogmagawl ; 

Till, while on fancies fancies rush'd, 

She met her husband's leer and blush'd. 

VII. 
Haii blush of the new risen bride ! 
Promoter of the Husband's pride, 
The old Maid's envy, young Maid's fear, 
The Wag's stale wit, the Widow's sneer 1 
Ye blushing Brides, new risen, Hail ! 
So in wild Flannagarty's vale, 
Blush the red blossoms, in the moil), 
When newly open'd by a thorn. 

VIII. 

If strange sensations of the breast 
Rash into Woman's face <onf«sfj 
G 



34 

And there a transient hectic spread, 

Vermillioning Health's softer red, 

How quickly, then, her heart repays 

Man's kind forbearance of his gaze ! 

His mercifully heedless air, 

His careless conversation's care, 

On topicks turned to hush alarms, 

In pity to her ruffled charms ! 

How oft her thoughts, that own the cheat. 

Dwell on the delicate deceit, 

Which mark'd her soft effusions float, 

And, noting, never seem'd to note. 

Ideas that evince a mind 

To character the man refin'd 

Did not on the sensorium light 

Of Blarneygig's puissant Knight. 

Staring on his embarrass'd Bride, 

" Lady O'Shaughnashane," he cried, 

" Arrah, what makes you blush ? come here 

And sit upon my knee, my dear ! 

IX. 

Obey'd she ? yes : for then a Spouse. 

(Times alter !) seldom broke her vows ; 
Nor thought all other vows effaced 
While marriage-beds were not disgraced ; 
As if Love, Honour, and Obey. 
(Oaths now of form, on Life's high-way) 
Like paltry passengers were lost 
In Virtue's terrible hard frost. 
Much did Sir Tooleywhagg rejoice 
T-o see the Lady of his choice 



35 

Sitting 1 , while he sat in his cap, 

Obediently upon his lap. 

His satisfaction grew so strong, 

It popp'd out, rampant, in a Song ; 

And many a harsh, discordant note 

Came, bellowing, through his rusty throat, 

Such, through thy caves, Loeh-Derg, were sent, 

When wild winds struggled for a vent. 

Which, as their boisterous road they took, 

Saint Patrick's Purgatory* shook. 

SONG OF THE BRIDEGROOM. 
X. 

Don't now, be after being coy ; 
Sits" ill upon my lap d' ar joy ! 
And let us at our breakfast toy, 

For thou art wife to me, Judy It 



* "Of this Cave, strange and incredible things are re- 
lated. It was demolished as a fictitious thing, on St. Pa- 
trick's day, in the year 1497, by authority of Pope Alex- 
ander VI, by the guardian of the House of Minorits of 
Donegal and others, says the author of the Ulster Annals, 
who then lived. Yet it was afterwards restored, and fre- 
quently visited by Pilgrims." Ware's Antiq. of Ireland- 

t The world has been much be-Mary'd, of late, by mo- 
dern Poets of prettyness ; and we have innumerable 

sweet little Stanzas of Simplicity, ending with " My Ma- 
ry," and " my Mary," to the end of the chapter ; 

Much after the following manner : — 

To-morrow, let it shine or pour, 
Precisely at the hour of four, 
Drive me the carriage to the door, 

My Coachman ! 

For I must dine with Doctor Brown, 

And to his Villa must go down 

Thou know'st the way to Kentish Town, 
My Coachman ' 



\ 



36 

And I am bound, by wedlock's chaiu. 
Thy humble sarvant to remain, 
Sir Tooleywhagg O'Shaughnashane, 
1'he Husband unto thee, Judy ! 

Each Vassal, at our Wedding-Feast, 
Blind drunk, last night, as any beast, 
Board till the daylight streak'd the East. 

Which spoil'd the sleep of thee, Judy ! 
Feasts in the Honey-Moon, are right ! 
But that once o'er, my heart's delight ! 
Nought shall disturb thee all the night, 

Or ever waken me, Judy ! 

The skins of Wolves by me they bled- 

Are covers to our Marriage-Bed ; 
Should one, in hunting, bite me dead, 

A Widow thou wilt be, Judy ! 
Howl at my wake ! 'twill be but kind ; 
And, if I leave, as Eve design'd, 
Some little Tooleywhaggs behind, 

They'll sarve to comfort thee, Judy 3 

XL 
Touch'd by the pathos of the Song, 
Though every note was rumbled wrong. 
Scarce could the sympathetic Bride, 
Her conjugal emotions hide.— 

To see her husband's Corse ! and oh ! 

A Wolf to bite him from her so ! 

A Wolf! all Erin's Saints forbid .'. 

Whose skin was but her coverlid ! 
Beneath that softness lurk'd there life 
To make a Widow of a Wife ! 



37 

To make her Lord resign his breath i 
To make her see him stiff in death '. 
Ye modern Spouses I never scoff 
At the fond Tear she hurried off ; 
When shedash'd ihe tear away, 
She smil'd and labour'd to be gay. 

XII. 
V What is this ling," she said, " Sir Knight, 
That on your finger looks so bright \ 
Outshining the fair Star of Morn ? 
Some old love-token, I'M be sworn ! 

I'll pull it off, dear !" at the word, 

Thunder, far off, was muttering heard ; 
And Lightning faintly play'd, to own 

It quiver'd for the mystic stone. 

Then all was hush'd as Death again ; 
Save that a sound swung down the glen, 
As, tolling, on the ear it fell, 
From Bunamargy-Friery bell. 
Dull wax'd the Sun ;— a dusky red 
Through the dense atmosphere was spread , 
Hooks to their tree-tops caw'd retreat, 
©ppress'd with suffocating heat. 

XIII. 

The Chief (confusion mark'd his brow). 
Cried, " Bathershane ! be asy now ! 

'Tis but a toy a gift to me, 

Sent from a dead friend, now at sea." 

Here Conscience whisper'd many a vri 

Thou Lust's, thou Avarice's Slave ! 
Is rolling o'er a luckless Fair, 
Driven by thy falsehood, to dlspair.» 




38 

Turn from thy Wife ! thou wilt be found 
As false to her as her that's drown'd. 
Turn 'roni thy Wife— thy dalliance check ;~) 
Cease padling in her ivory neck ;* ? 

Think on the Lady of the Wreck i J 

XIV. 
" Sent from a friend at sea, who's dead I" 
The now half-jealous Lady said. 

" Would'st into life the lifeless drag ? 

Thou banter'st me my Tooleywhagg! 
Dead men. who sometimes fioat, I hear, 
Transmit no presents home, ray dear. 
Come, come ! this toy— this gewgaw thing, 
This shewy. baubling, foppish Ring, 

Bents thy manly finger ill ; 

Have it I must, Sir Knight, and will." 
Quick from his hand she twitch 'd the stone, 
And, laughing, fix'd it on her own. 
That instant, hurst a bombard cloud, 
O'er Blarneygig's high turrets, loud ; 
And. while its grand artillery ro-ir'd, 
Both sheeted fires and waters pour'd, 
Earth's huge maternal sides up-born, 
With horrid labour-throes were torn: 
Then, Wicklow, first, thy mountains bold 
Fear tinged with something much like gold ;f 

* " Padling in your neck with his danm'il fingers-" 

Shakespeare. 

t Gold is supposed to have been late]} 

the Wicklow ■ oun tains but manydoi 

>ld,or only something like it, it ;'. 

the other, it is a sign of good luck to the discoverers, 



39 

Moneykillcark's unfathom'd bog 
RuskM o'er the vales of Tullyhog; 
The Forest shudder d o'er the Buck ; 
The shrinking Pond left dry the Duck ; 
Who, thrown upon her glossy back, 
Flutter d, but quak'd too much to quack; 
The Craven from his dunghill (lew, 
And still d his Cock-a-doodle-doo.* 

XV. 

Nature, as sea-girt Erin shook, 

Her lav s ol gravity forsook. 

The Bucket s cordage, crack'd in twain, 

That wound the Lady from, the main 

The Bucket then, ne'er meant to fly, 
Disdain d the Beach, and sought the sky ; 
The lofty Watch-Tower's roof beat in, 
And crush d the Warder, Ro-.-y Flin ; 
Expiring- drunk, he " Whiskey ' cried, 
All Water-Buckets damn'd, and died. 
The Sea that lav'd the Castle's base, 
Arose, the battlement's to face ; 
Fronting the windows, foaming came, 
Where sat the Chieftain with his Dame, 
And, full a minute ere it fall, 
Spread a broad, waving watery wall ! 

Sudden it sunk the orb of day ^ 

Now struggling with the clouds for sway, £■ 
The awful Tempest roll d away. J 

* The Craven is the dung-hill cock ; and is used adjec- 
tively, by old Authors, as an epithet of Cowardice. Indi- 
viduals, now existing, of a noble family, have reversed the 
definition of this epithet; and attached to the name of 
Craven every thing that is spirited and estimable in So- 
cietv. 



40 

Strew'd e'er the chamber from tbe strand. 
Lay sea-weed, Cockle-shells and sand ; 
And in a corner, shivering, sat, 
Wet through with brine, a Water-Rat ; 
On the O'Shaughnashane it fix'd 
Its eyes, with anger, sorrow-mixt ; 
Shew'd its sharp teeth, in doleful spite, 
And knapp'd, and chatter'd at the Knigbf, 

XVI. 

' f Say, is the Tempest past ?" inquired 
The Dame, who from a swoon respired. 

' : Say, is the Tempest ah I what's that ? 

Save me, Saint Roger ! 'tis a Rat ! 

What eyes ! what teeth ! what ears ! what hair 

Look at its whiskers ! what a pair ! 

And oh ! Sir Tooleywhagg ! see what 

A long, thick, swinging tail 'thas got ! 

Destroy it, or I feint again ; 

Throw, throw it back into the main I" 

Perk'd on its dripping haunches stood 

The bristling Reptile of the Flood, 

And utter d to the Bride a squeak, 

That seem'd almost a human shriek ! 

The shriekuig Bride, sore, sore dismay'd, 

Almost a rat-like squeak repaid ; 

And hurried from the spot, to yield 

The Rat possession of tbe Field. 

XVII. 
^lused not the Chieftain, when his dear- 
Tied the apartment, pale with fear ? 
Jvluscd he not on the mystic Ring ? 
The Storm? the Rat .'—the everything 



Sat he not wrapt in doubt and wo, 

And tranced in cogitation ? No. 

The shallow cellules ofhis head 
Were sopre-oecupied with lead, 
That, wanting intellectual space, 
Reflection could not find a place. 
But a rich Fool,* whose stars ordain 
His pate shall be one blank of brain. 

Ne'er long sits motionless alone 

He cannot think himself to stone ; 

Nor like the wise, or would-be wise, 

Read, write, combine, philosophize ; 

Still, with no labour of the mind, 

Work for his limbs he's sure to find. 

His Body's action whiles away 

His listless life in tiresome pla} r , 

And helps the crannium of the Ass 

Folly's long holidays to pass. 

Left by his Lady's sudden flight, 

The busy bodied brainless Knight, 

Barren of thought, deprived of chat, 

Threw bread and butter to the Rat. 

The Reptile, in a sullen mood, 

Its whiskers twirl'd, and spurn'd the food. 

XVIII. 
As the lone Angler, patient man, 
At Mewry-Water, or the Banner- 
Leaves off, against his placid wish, 
Empaling worms to torture fish ; 

* This is by no means intended to insinuate that a man 
who is rich, must, consequently be foolish ; but that a 
fool, who is affluent can afford to have no business or 

study. 

f Rivers in Ulster. 

C 3 



-13 aull at dusk, he plods to res' v 

Not, even with a nibble blest 

So from the Rat retired the Knight, 
Convinced he could not get a bite. 
When to the Anti-room he came, 

A Rat again ! the very same ! 

He left it, straight, and sought the stair, 
The animal sat crouching there. 
He rang'd his grand Apartments through—*") 
The yellow chamber, green, red, blue, >■ 
There was the water-reptile too ! J 

Where could he go ? where stay ? where look i 
At every turn, in every nook, 
He fear'd the Rat would be espied, 
And all his fears were ratified, 

XIX. 

Months fleeted, since the earthquake's shock ; 
Meanwhile, at Allyballyknock, 
Grand feasts were given in the Hall 
Of Lord Fitz Gaily hogmagawl ; 
Others at Craughternaughter Hill, 
Where dwelt the pale Mac Twiddledill ; 
There came the Knight ;— and thither sped 
The little airy Quadruped ; 
Whom Host, and Guests, essay'd in vain 
To drive from the O'Shaughnashane. 
Where'er he went, whatever the horn*. 
On plain, or hill, in hall, or bower, 

At prayer, meals, sport all matters that 

An Irish Chieftain could be at, 
There grinn'd the same eternal Rat ; 
EludiDg every effort, still, 
To hart, to catch it, or to kill. 



43 

xx. 

On Klarneygig's high gateway rear'd, 
A Manifesto now appear'd; 
Sir Tooleywhagg's most strict command, 
"Writ in his own improper hand ; 
From which, with pure and classic dread. 
Orthography and Grammar fled. 
Five minutes' shower wash'd away 
" Read, and take notice, every day." 

What matter'd ? for each Vassal knew 

His duty he was hound to do ; 

But, in default of it, might plead 

Not one of them had learn'd to read. 

By word of mouth the Order, then, 

Was given— and spread among the men ; — ~ 

That through the territory sought, 

To each apartment must be brought 

That foe instinctive to a rat, 

That Tiger's miniature the Cat. 

XXI. 
Bagg'd from a Cabin, on the skirt 
Of thy morass, soft Grannyfert, 
First came a Cottycr's* half-starved Tom, 
Whom Famine had deducted from ; 
Deducted, till it seem'd, through Fast, 
That eight of his nine lives were past. 
But soon his Cat-Star crying "eat," 
Relented, in the shape of meat ; 

* "They were persons who. not holding: oruYiable tu 
Hold, any lands on their own account, were obi 
work for their subsistence, 

fcr such cultivators of land as called themselves gentle- 
men. Thes< labourers went by the nam&of C : 
Uell's Description of the Peasastrj of las 



41 

New sleeVd his coat, re-plump'd his flesh. 
And gave him his lost lives afresh. 
Then, like the amorous Turk, he saw, 
Though only a One-tail 'd Bashav.-, 
Around his wawling presence swell "j 
A huge Seraglio, stock 'd pell-mell, >■ 

With black, white, tabby, tortoise-shell.. 
Yet, when about the Rat they ranged, 
Their natural feline fury changed ; 
The Rat no symptom shew'd of fright, 
The Cats forgot to pounce or bite ; 
F.ach claw was shut, and all the furr'd, 
As it in love, and pity, purr "d. 
Thus Wolves, before our Mother's vice, 
Caress d the Kid, in Paradise ; 
The Lamb, thus, calmly, cropt the plain, 
Beneath the peaceful Lion's mane ; 
While on the branch, that bloom'd above, 
The Hawk sat billing with the Dove. 

XXII. 

Thrice through the Zodiac's signs, the Sun, 
His annual wheeling race hud run, 
While kept the Water-Fiend its pace, 
Haunting the Knight from place to place. 
Worn with the pest, on travel bent, 

From Rocky Blarneygig he went ; 

Traversed the sea ; all Europe view d ; 
Still, still, the cursed Rat pursued ! 

No change it manifested ; save 

That which the various nations gave. 
In Fiance, thy Dressing-room, oh World ! 
Its \\ ; :iskors sotm'd more smartly curl'd ; 
Through Italy, a mellower note 
Squeak'd. like a quaver, from its throat : 



45 

Among the Germans, all the day, 

It look tl not sober, though not gay, 

And gravely studied to maintain 

A haughty toss of nose in Spain. 

As, hopeless, home, the Chief, at last, 

O'er Scotia s barren Highlands past, 

The Reptile, shedding half its hair, 

Grew hidebound, till its breech was bare ; 

And scratch d, while hunger mark d its jaws ; 

Incessantly, between the claws.* 

XXIII. 

The Chief, (his breast with sorrow big) 

Re-enter'd Castle Blarneygig. 

" Bother !" he cried. " 'tis all in vain, 

Lady of the O Shaughnashane ! 

As I return, returns my Foe :— 

We've made the tour of Europe through. 

But, to what purpose did I roam ? 

What, Judy, what have I brought home ? 

Like many a travelled fool, no doubt, 

No more, nor less than I took out!" 

Next morn, he rose to chase the Deer, 

In the thick tangles of Uunleer. 

'Twere long to tell who in the mud 

Was left, chin-deep, at Gruddrybrud ; 

What horse, or rider, at Kilcleek, 

Now broke his wind, and now his neck : 

* Although the Author indulges in an allusion to a 
common-place national jest, la feels a sii cere respect for 

the Scotch, as an honorable, brave, and acute people : 

ami he knows not that even the lower order of North- 
Britons are, in fact, troubled with the Itch, anymore 
than that Englishmen hang and drown themselves i:i No- 
vember. Kt lived three jears n Scotland, and nuer 

observed one instance of the above-mentioned cutaneous 
disorder. 



46 

Enough, that, when the lengthen'd shaa> 

Of Oaks had vanished from the glade 

When a chill, sullen, starless night, 

Was pressing dew-dript Evening's flight, 

Dismounted, in a luckless hour, 

(Far from his own, or any tower,) 

Upon a wide and swampy plain, 

Wander 'd the loneO'Shaughnashane. 

" How am I worn," he sigh'd, " Och Hone,~j 

With melancholy to the bone ."' /•* 

Then set him down upon a stone ; J 

To while the hours till morning-tide, 

With the Rat perking by his side. 

'Twas then he heard no Minstrel nigh — - 

A Kearnine* twang his Lullaby. 

SONG. 

XXIV. 

Huntsman sleep !t— the Deer has jogg'd 

From thy Hounds, not worth the chiding 

Huntsman, sl^ep '. thy steed lies bogg'd, 
Glander'd, spavin'd; not worth riding. 

Huntsman ! 'tis thy fate to own 

Leather lost, and empty belly ! 
Stick thy bottom on a stone, 

Till the Rat shall squeak reveillie. 

Huntsman, snore !— for up thou'rt done,£ 
And, before the rising sun, 

* Kearnine. " This word is translated, by Vallancey, 
a small harp. "'- — Walker's Irish Bards. 

t " Huntsman, rest! thy chace is done." See Lady 

©f the Lake ; Canto I. 

% The modern phrase, tc.be done up, Las descended to 
lis from the Slangiof the ancients. 



Io 'a waken and assail ye, 

Will the reptile squeak reveilHe. 

XXV. 

Light, lingering, still, upon the ground, 
The Wanderer cast his eyes around. 
The Reptile, with the chase o'ertoil'd. 
Into a hairy ball was coil'd ; 
And slept upon a heathery stump, 
Spite of the hail that beat its rump. 
While, turning from the storm, it dozed. 
Its rear was to the Knight exposed, 
'• Now, by the powers !" he utter'd low, 
'• I've taken by surprise the Foe .' 
Och ! divil ! have I, five years past, 
Caught you, here, napping, now, at last !" 
He tiptoed, eager, through the hail, 
And seized his torment by the tail. 

The Virmin squeak'd ! Oh, well-a-day i 

Should Vermin talk in future day, 
No rhetoriek could better teach 
A Rat to make its dying speech. 
Against the stone he dash'd its head, 
And saw his plague, at length lie deadL 
Its blood, while man runs mortal race, 
Tempest, nor Time, will e'er efface. 
E'en now, the Antiquary pores 
O'er the grey stone ; and, there, explores 
(What cannot Antiquaries see !) 
Marks that ne'et were, nor e'er will be ;— 
He traces, on a barbarous strand, ' 

A Fair denuded ; in her hand 

A Scroll, with two Os following T, "l 
And, after that discovers LEY, |- 
Then W, H, A, double G ; J 



48 

Which, put together, make, full sure. 
To lovers of the old obscure, 
A ship-wreck'd Maid, dead many a year, 
Still grasping all she held most dear ; 
And cast on History a light, 
Touching the Lady, and the Knight. 

XXVI. 
Say how far off. as grey crow flies, 
Did Blarneygig s dark turrets rise, 
From the morasses, where was slain 

The Rat, by the O'Shaughnasbane ? 

A toilsome length ! four leagues, at least 

Wind whistled chilly from the East ; 

And eastward from the Castle lay ~j 

The swamps whereon the Chief did stray. }> 

Wafting its sounds the adverse way. J 

Yet, when the wretched Rat was crush'd, 

Loud, on the heath, a twangle rush'd, 

That rung out Supper, grand and big, 

From the crack'd Bell of Blarneygig. 

The festive metal's blundering tone 

Well to Sir Tooleywhagg was known ; 

Who, ear-directed, by its sound, 

Squash 'd, darkling, through the rotten ground. 

So, erst, did Satan— (as 'tis sung 

By tht-e, great Bard !* who. England's tongue 

To such sublime perfection wrought, 

It only sunk beneath thy thought I 

By thee ! who, loyal to the Muse, 
Thy King didst prosingly abuse !t 

* Milton. 

t " 'Tis in vain to dissemble, and far be it from mo. to 
defend, his engaging with a Party combined in the de- 
struction of our Church and monarchy." Fenton's 

Life of Milton. See, also, Milton's Prose Works. 



49 

By thee, tike Homer, reft of sight. 

Like Homer, gifted to delight !) 

So, erst, did Satan drag his tail, 

O'er bog, o'er steep, or moory dale, 

And wading through mud, mire, and cla3 r , 

With head, hands, feet, pursue his way : 

At length, against his Castle-gate, 

A Hubaboo he gave full late. 

The muzzy Porter, Con Maeguire, 

Roused his blown carcase from the fire. 

And oped the portal; swift as light, 

Passing his Vassal, shot the Knight ; 
When past, the Vassal lock'd, with care, 
The gate, and mutter'd, " Who goes there V* 
O'ercome with transport, and fatigue, 
;Oh, he had zig-zagg'd many a league !> 
In to his Dame, in slumbers hush'd, 
The great Sir Tooleywhagg he push'd, 
And, falling on his stomach flat, 
Roar'd " Judy I have kill'd the Rat \" 

XXVII. 
« Speed, Looney, speed !"* next morning cried" 
The jocund Chief, " for thou must ride 
Fleet as the bolt that rends the tree, 
On Rocky Cloghemochartee. 
Speed, Looney ! speed to every guest ; 
Ride North and South, ride East and West ! 

* " Speed, Malise, speed!'" Malise, in the Lady of 

the Lake, is sent, in great haste, to invite gentlemen to a 

battle, instead of a dinner. His master bids him take a 

short stick, and punch it ; 

" A cubit s length, in measure due ; 
" The shaft and limb were rods of yew." 
With this signal for war, which has been thrust into the 
fire, he runs through the country. 



50 

Saddle grey Golloeh ! spur him hard 
From Glartyflail y to Klanard ; 
From Killybegg, to Killaleagh ; 
Cross Ulster's Province ;— haste away ! 

Speed. Looney, speed ! invite them all ; 

Baron Fitz Gallyhogmagawl, 

Dennis O'llourke, of Ballyswill, 

D' Arcy, and pale Mac Twiddledill, 

All the O'Brans, O'Finns, O'Blanes, 

Mac Gras, Mac Naughtans, and Mac Shanes. 

I hold a Feast ; thou know st the day ; 

Speed, Looney ! Looney, haste away !" 

XXVIII. 

The day arrived ; the Guests were met ; 
High in his Hall the Chief was set. 
The horn he emptied soon as fill'd, 
And, filling soon as empty— swill'd. 

All swill d alike each Erin's son 

Appear'd a bursting, living ton. 

'Twas at that crisis of the Feast 
When purpled man is almost Beast; 
When, either, friend his friend provokes, 
By hiccupping affronts, for jokes, 
Or goblets at the head are sent, 

Before affronts are given, or meant ; 

A Vassal (now 'twas waxing late) 
Announced a Strang* r at the Gate. 
" A Stranger! ' splutter d forth the Knight. 
" Tell him he's welcome to alight.* 5 
" Plaseyou," return d the Vassal, pale, 
" So. is, my Chieftain, not a Male ! 
She's mantled in a sea-green weed,* 
And mounted on a rat-tail 'd Steed ; 

* Weed, formerly, signified a garment. —We still 
Widow's weeds. 



51 



Her face is cover 'd ; but she speaks 

Lik-^ iminnuri g waves ; her stallion squeaks: 

Ana such a Rider, such a Nag, 

You never saw, Sir Toole) whagg." 

Startled, half-sober d, soiv displ as'd, 

The Knight a swaling candle seiz d, 

And staggering through his Castle Court, 

He reach 'd the Spectre at the port. 

The Apparition raised it's veil, 

And shewed the features, ashy pale ! 

With ringlets, blood-drench'd, in her neck, 

Of the sad Lady of the Wreck. 

XXIX. 

"Perjured Seducer, lisc ! :1 she said, 

"Ami tremble at tiie doubly dead: 

By Thee, to desperation urged. 

I plunged, and drown'd— for Thee emerg'd. 

The Ring drawn oil", it gave me power, 

(For know 'twas chartn'd) from that same hour, 

To join tiite, cruellest of men ! 

In one shape more, till death, again. 

Doating, I came ; to Thee I lied, 

A little faithful quadruped ; 

Doating, with Thee, from shore to shore, 

I swam, and trotted Europe o'er. 

Was I not constant as thy Bride ? "*j 

Why drive me, first, down Erin's tide. J» 

Then kill me, lince my Suicide '. J 

Perjured Seducer, list ?— thy doom 

Approaches ;— seek thy Banquet-Room ; 

Back to thy guests ; renew thy sport ; 

Be thy life merry, as 'tis short ! 

For learn, thy latest vital gasp 

Ends with the Candle in thy grasp. 



52 

Soon as burnt down, beyond all doubt, 
Sir Tooleywhagg, thy life is out." 
She ceased ;— a sea wave roll'd to meet 
Her squeaking, rat-tail'd, Palfrey's feet ; 
And, foaming past the palsied Knight, 
Swept Horse, and Rider, from his sight. 

XXX. 

Wan as the Sceptre of the Flood, 

Before his guests the Chieftain stood, 

With trembling voice, he told them all :— 

"Fate," cried Fitz Gallyhogmagawl, 

; 'To thee, my son-in-law, doth give 

Longer than other men to live. 

If thou canst wave thy dying day 

Until! the Candle burns away, 

Thou may'st immortal be, Sir Knight, 

Only by turning down the light." 

Oh I 'appy, happy thought ! — 'twas done ;"y 

Sir Tooleywhagg a race might run, i> 

And only burn out, with the Sun. J 

XXXI. 

Again the horns were iill'd by all 
And undulations shook the Hall.— 
While noise and Whiskey rack d the brain. 
Still, kept the great O'Shaughnashanc 
(Who now mortality defied) 

The blown-out candle by his side ; 

•Till sapping at each feverish Toast, 
The little sense a Sot can boast, 
Quite vanquished, by potations deep, 
The human swine all sunk to sleep. 
What time they snorted loud, the fire, 
And every taper, did expire. 



53 



A Vassal enter'd ; al 1 was dark ; 

The turf he blew but not a spark ! 

He groped the slopp'd oak-table round., 
And there, laid down, a Candle found ; 

The fatal Candle ! at a lamp, 

Upon the stair-case, dim with damp, 
Relumining the wick that gave 
The Chief of Blarneygig his Grave, 
He placed it where his Lord might take 
The light, whenever lie should wake. 
Soon as the Candle 'gan to burn, 
Sir Tooleywhagg he gave a turn ;— 

Andgroan'd ;— but still his eyes were closed 

Death hovering round him while he dozed I 
He dreamt of Tempest, of a Rat, 
And Night-Mares rode him, as he sat. 

A Thief within the Candle got 

The heated Chieftain grew more hot ; 
The Candle in the socket blazed ; 

He oped his eyes his head he raised ; 

That moment he had raised his head, 

The light expired the Knight was dead ! 

' # 

Harp of the Pats ! farewell ! for, truly, J 

Am growing very sick of Minstrelsy ; 

Sb get thee te the Bog again ! Good bye 1 



AN ODE TO WE 



A HACKNEY'D CRITIC. 



" Nothing, if not critical." Shak. 

I. 

HAIL Plural Unit ! who wouldst he 
A Junto o'er my Muse and me, 

With Dogmas to eontroul us ; 
Hail, mystic WE ! grand Next-to None : 
Large Body Corporate of One! 

Important OMNES, Solus ! 

II. 

Eirst Person. Singular ! pray, why 
Imiu-afcate thus the Pronoun I? 

Of Madness what a tissue ! 
To write as if with passion wild, 
Thou oft hadsfgot thyself with child, 

And thoiPvert Self and Issue ! 

III. 
Thy Voice, which counterfeits, alone, 
A score of voices in its own, 

Awhile takes in the Many ; 
Thus a bad One Pound Note is past 
For Twenty Shillings— and, at last, 

Turns out not worth a penny. 



55 

IV. 
'Tis well for Thee no laws of thine 
Can crush vile Followers of the Nine ; 

Thou liv'st upon the sinners ; 
And if all Poets left off writing, 
Through thy anonymous inditing, 

Why thou must leave off dinners : 

V. 

For thou couldst ne'er turn Poet, sure, 
Laurels or Luncheons to procure ; 

Witness thy present calling; 
Else why not write thyself a name 
So very humhle, e'en in fame, 

As mine which thou art mauling ? 

VI. 

Yet, hold— thou may'st, on Pindus' heights., 
Have far out-soar'd my lowly flights- 
No that's a thought I*J1 smother ; 

The meanest. Bard among the mean, 
Can he thus sculk behind a screen, 
And try to stab a brother ? 

VII. 
But comer-one moment, leave thy pen 
Stuck in thy gall-bottle, and then 

Smooth o'er thy forehead's furrow ; 

Let's chat : Where got'st thou thy employ 

Art thou of Dublin City, joy 

Or bonny Edinborough ? 

VIII. 

Or, art John Bull in garret craram'd ? 
" Spirit of health, or goblin damn'd ?" 
Be something for tby credit ; 




56 

Perhaps, thou'rt lie -who (as they >n\ 
Cut up the last successful Play, 
And never saw nor read it. 

IX. 

Be what thou wilt ; when all is done, 

To me thou'rt (like thyself) All One ; 

Thou'rt welcome still to flog ou ; 
For, till one addled egg's a brood, 
Or, twenty WEs a multitude, 

My Muse and I will jog on. 

X. 

Now, should'st thou praise me after all ! 
Though that, indeed, were comical, 

What honor could I pin to't ? 
If porridge were my only cheer, 
Thy praise or blame must both appear 

Two tasteless chips thrown iato't. 

XI. 

Then, WE, shake hands, and part !— no breach. 
No difference, twist us, I beseech I 

Although our business varies ; 
Thine is Detraction, mine is Jest ; 
Which occupation, pray, is best— 

Thy Spite or my Vagaries ? 



LOW AMBITION; 

OR THE 

LIFE AND DEATH OF Mr. DAW 



Prcecordia hidit. Pers. 

Claims the Betty Part.— Moore's Almanack. 



MALEBRANCH, and Lock, and such grave fellows 
Who were abstracted reiisoners, tell us 

Much that relates to MAN : when you have read 

All these Philosophers have said, 
You'll give them credit for their perspicacity •— — 

And, after that, (it you should have a head 
Of no great ontologicul capacity) 

You'll know as much, 
About the matter, as I kn$w of Dutch ; 
Tor, when a metaphysick chain 
Once gets entangled in your brain, 

The more you rattle it, the more you rave, 

And curse, and swear, and misbehave 

Coming to no conclusion ; 
And, if, at last, you loose the smallest link, 
You may as well go whistle as go think 
Of mending the confusion. 



58 



Then, leaving Spiritual Truths to those 
Who, taking pleasure in the study, 

O'er Thoughts on Human Understanding cloze, 
Till human understanding grows quite muddy 

One proposition, only, I advance, 

(It will not lead Philosophy a dance) 

Respecting Man Videlicit, 

I never met with any yet, 
However thick his pericranium's density-— 

Let it be thicker than a post 

Who has not some astonishing propensity, 
Of which he makes a pother, and a boast. 

Ke'll either tell you he can drink, or smoke, 
Or play at Whist or on the pipe and tabor— 

Or cut a throat, a caper, or a joke, 
Much better than his neighbour. 

Many will say, they'll settle you the Nation; 

And make a Peace- solid and good 

(I wish, they would !) 
Sooner than the Administration. 

One tells you how a Town is to be taken ; 

A second o'er the fair sex blasts his power ; 
Another brags he"ll eat six pounds of bacon. 

For half a crown, in half an hour. 

Thus Nature always brings, in Fortune's spite, 
M;. ;'> "ruling passion," rs Pope says, to li^ht. 
Am' I maintain that all these Fading Passions, 

Divide them how ye-.. *uU 3 nd subdivi 

I care not how the j n rami 
Into their differenl 'ions— 

I say they all proceed from Pride ; 



59 

And this same pride is founded on Ambition ; 
Shades varying, with talents and condition. 

Look at that Rope-dancer ;— observe ! 

Gods ! how he vaults ! — 'tis all to get a name i 
Risking his limbs, and straining every nerve, 

To jump himself, pour devil ! into Fame. 

Mark with what majesty he wields the pole, 
While the Buffoon (his vassal) chalks his sole ! 

Sir, 'tis his poor Ambition s richest hope 
To reign Elastic Emperor, and Lord, 
O'er all who ever caper'd on a cord, 

And be the Buonaparte of the rope. 

In short, an itching for renown 
Makes some dance ropes and others storm a Town ;- 

And an observer must be very dull 
If a Jack-Pudding or a Pierrot, 

Don't, sometimes, seem to him as great a Her« 
As a Grand Signior, or a Great Mogul. 
That lowly men aspire to lowly glory 
Here followelh (exempli gratrt) a Story. 



Goddess ! whose frolick humor glads the Sky ; 

Who oft, with dimpled cheek to Momus listen ; 
Within the lustre of whose lucid eye 

Laughter's gay drops, like dew in sunshine, glisten : 

Come, sweet EUPHROSNEY! luxuriant MIRTH ! 
Leave all the Heathen Deities behind, 
Descend, and help, ("twill be but kind) 

One of the poorest Poets upon earth 



60 

O! now descend ! while I devote my page 
To one who MourishM on a London Stage. 

She comes ! I sing the Man ycleped Daw, 
Whose Mother di pc Queens; 

She in the Candle-Snuffer raised a hum 
Then quench'd it, like a liberal Dame ; 
And the first light my Hero ever saw 
Was that his Father snu.Td behind the scenes. 

Bom to the Boards, as Actors say, this Wight 
Was o : t Let out, at half a crown per night, 

By tender parents, after he was wean'd ; 
At three years old. squab. chubby-chcek'd and stupid. 
Sometimes he was a little extra Fiend, 

Sometimes a supernumerary Cupid. 

When Master Daw full fourteen years had told. 

He grew, as it is term'd, hobbedyhoy-ish; 
For Cupidons, and Fairies, much too old, 

For Caltibans, and Devils, much too boyish. 

This state, grave Fathers say. behind the Scene*. 
Often embarrasses their Ways and Means ; 
And Master Daw was out of size, 

For raising the supplies ; 

He was a perfect lout— a log ; 

You never clapt your eyes 
Upou an uglier dog ! 

His voice had broken to a gruffish squeak ; 

He bad grown Wear-eyM, baktr-kne'd.and gummy; 
And. tfa »ugh he hadn't been too hoarse to speak; 

He was too ugly, even, for a duroby. 



61 

But mole-eyed Fortune, Goddess of misprision, 
Soon gave her Bandeau's knot a tighter twist, 

Or else, that she might have no chance of vision, 
She certainly employ'd an Oculist : 

Had she but seen no better than the Fowl 
The chaste Minerva loves yclept an Owl—— 

Or had of seeing the least notion, 
She never, never could have found 
In Master Daw, that chubby, stupid hound,, 

A subject for theatrical promotion. 

But lo ! 'twas at a Ballet's night-rehearsal——- 
Perform'd, at last, as Play-Bills often shew, 
Whether the Ballet have been hissed or no, 

To over-flows, and plaudits, universal ; 

Th-> Prompter's Boy, a pickled, thoughtless knai$ ; 

Playing a game at marbles, in the sea, 
Happcn'd to break his leg upon a wave, 

And Master Daw was made his Deputy. 

The Office of a Prompter's Boy, perchance^ 

May nol be generally known ; 
I'll sketch it ; Would I could enhance 

The outline with some touches of my own I 

The Prompter's Boy, Messieurs ! must stand 
Jfenr the Stage-Door, close at the Prompter's hand , 
Holding a Nomenclature that's numerical, 
Which tallies with the Book prompterical ; 
And as the Prompter calls, " One,Two.Three, Four, ,: 

Mtrk'd, accurately, in the Prompt-Book page, 
These numbers mean the Boy must leave the doer, 

To call the folks referd to 3 for the Stage, 



62 

In this capacity, as record saith, 

Young Master Daw 

Both heard and saw 
As much (if not as two) as any one can :-*— 

tie saw the Actor murdering Macbeth, 
Whom he had only call'd to murder Duncan. 

He saw Anne Boleyne in the Green-Room, grant 
A kiss to Wolsey, dangling at her crupper ; 

Heard an Archbishop damn a Figurante, 
And Shylock order Sausages for supper. 

During his time (or Master Daw's a liar) 
Three Virgins of the Sun grew wondrous round; 

Pluto most narrowly escaped from Fire, 
And Neptune in a water-tub was drown'd. 

During his time, from the Proscenium ta'en, 
Thalia and Melpomene both vanish'd; 

The Lion and the Unicorn remain— 
Seeming to hint, to a capricious age, 

" Surfer the Quadrupeds to keep the Stage, 
The .Muses to he banished." 

i 

During his time— psha ! let me turn Time's glass. 

Reader, old Time (depend u-i't) will kiss thee ; 
But. should 1 grow prolix, alas I 

Thou never would'st kill Time by reading Me. 
Tet, here will I apostrophise thee, Time ! 
If not in reason, why iu Crambo Rluine. 



63 

A RECKONING WITH TIME.* 

i. 

Come on, old Time ! nay, that is stuff j 

Gaffer ! thou com'st on fast enough ! 

Wmg'd foe to feather'd Cupid !-*■ 
But, tell me, Sand-man ! ere thy grains 
Have multiplied upon my brains, 

So thick to make me stupid ;— 

II. 
Tell me, Death's Journeyman !— but, no ; 
Hear thou my speech •— I will not grow 

Irreverent while I try it ; 
Tor, though I mock thy flight, 'tis said, 
The Forelock fills me with such dread, 

I never take thee by it. 

III. 

List, then, old Is-Was-and-To-Be ! 

I'll state accounts 'twixt Thee and Me ;—- ■ ■ 

Thougavest die, first, the Measles; 
With teething wouldst have ta'en me off. 
Then, ruadest me, with the hooping cough, 

Thinner than fifty wcasles. 

* This 'Reckoning with Time.' appear'd three or four 
years ago, at the request of a friend, in a monthly publi- 
cation ; whence it was copied into a few works or' a 

similar description: but, as it was first, purposely, 

written to be introduced in the present Tale, and has 
(j. i . . 11, only, in prints a little more fugitive (perhaps) 
than this Book, the Author trusts he may be excused for. 
inserting it in the place ot its original destination* 



64 

IV. 

Thou gavest Small-Pox, (the Dragon, u«* ; 
That Jenner combats on a Cow,) 

And, then, some seeds of knowledge; 
Grains of the Grammar, which the flails 
Of Pedants thresh upon our tail?, 

To fit us for a College. 

V. 
And, when at Christ-Church, 'twas thy spor; 
To rack my brains with sloe-juice Port, 

And Lectures out of number !— 
There Fresh-man Folly quaffs, and sings, 
While Graduate Dullness clogs thy wings, 

With mathematie lumber. 

VI. 

Thy pinions next which, while the} w*aY£ ; 

Fan all our Birth-Days to the grave— 

I think ere it was prudent, 
Balloon'd me from the Schools to Town,. 
Where 1 was parechuted down, 

A dapper, Temple Student. 

VII. 

Then much in Dramas did I look; 

Much light* d Thee, and great Lord Coke 

Cong nve beat Blackstone hollow ; 
Shakespeare made all the Statutes stale, 
And, in my Crown, no Pleas had Hale, 

To supersede Apollo. 

VIII. 

Ah, Time ! those raging heats, I find, 
Wen' the mere Dog-Star oi my mini! 
Hew eo«l io retrospection i 



65 

Youth's gaudy Summer Solstice o'er, 
Experience yields a mellow store, 
An Autumn of reflection ! 

IX. 

Why did I let the God of Song 

Lure me from Law, to join his throng— 

Gull'd by some slight applauses ? 
What's verse to A when versus B ? 
Or what John Bull, a Comedy, 

To pleading John Bull's causes ? 

X. 

Yet, though my childhood felt disease, 
Though my lank purse, unswoln by fees, 

Some ragged Muse has netted 

Still, honest Chronos ! tis most true, 
To Thee (and faith to others too !) 

I'm very much indebted. 

XI. 

For thou hast made me gaily tough ; 
Inured me to each day that's rough, 

In hopes of calm, to-morrow ;— 
And when, old Mower of us all ! 
Beneath thy sweej ing scythe I fall, 

Some few Dear Friends will sorrow. 

XII. 

Then— though my idle Prose or Rhime, 
Should, half an hour, outlive me, Time ! 

Pray bid the Stone- Engravers, 
Where'er my bones find Church-Yard room. 
Simply to chisel on my tomb 

" Thank TIME for all his favors '" 

JJ 2 



06 

Managers, Actors, Candle-Snuffers— all 

Yea, all who write, or damn, or clap a Play, 

E'en little Prompters' Boys, who Players call. 
(Sad truth to tell !) grow older every day. 

NOW had tin sure lore-runner of our Pate, 
(Time, ■whom I have apostrophized.) 

Who rubs no Russian oil upon his pate) 

Scorning a wig, or a transparent tite, 
Or any cure for baldness advertised ;— 

.time had besprinkled with some years, 

My Hero's asinine and vulgar ears. 

Daw, now adult, and turn'd of five-and-thirty, 
Conceived himself miraculously clever; 

His skin was like a Dun Cow's hide, grown dirty, 
And his legs knit in bandiness forever. 

Coxcombical, malicious, busy, pert, 

Brisk as a flea, and ignorant as dirt, 
■When he began one of his frothy chatters, 
Boasting about his knowledge of Stage matters, 

He looked so very, very sage, 
You could not. for your soul, talk gravely to him; 

He seemed an Oran Outang, come of 
Conniv'd at for a man, by those w > knew him. 

Many strange faces may be seen ;— But Daw's 

Look'd like the knocker of the door, whose gnu 
Has let its handle tumble from the jaws, 
To hinder you from rapping on its chin. 
Three single ladies, and one married, 
By looking at him, all miscarried. 

No longer Prompter's Boy, he now had gain'd 
A rank upon the Stage almost unlaw • 



67 

A rank of which I am about to speak ;— 
Which, with great dignity, he long maintain"^. 

r * Daw on the Stage ! too ugly as a lad ! 
And now so frightful, when to manhood grown, 
That Ugliness had ' mark'd him for her own; 

Sure the Proprietors were all gone mad !" 

Reader : it ill becometh me 

To say how mad Proprietors may be ; 

But, every night, 
To crowded audiences did Mr. Daw 
Give Boxes, Pit, and Galleries delight, 
Acting with great eclat. 

And though he acted so repeatedly, 
'Of which he often talked conceitedly) 

Although no Actor in bis line excell'd him 

Yet. in the personation of his part, 
(The fact, I know, will make you start., 
Not one of bis encomiasts beheld him. 

When the enigma is expounded, 
You'll own 'tis true, and be dumfoundetf 

Well was the adage to my Hero known 

That Beauty merely is skin deep ; 
But, thinking Ugliness is some skins dc. 

He very politickly tried to creep 
Into another skin, beside his own ; — = 
Wherein conceal'd, 
His face and figure couldn't be reveal'd, 
And soon he proved a most successful creepc;., 

Being a persevering rogue, 
Through intesest, and strung solicits tic 3, 



68 

Before live Cattle cairic in vogue, 
He got. at last, li is wish'd for situation : 
And, when sham Beasts came on, it was his pride 
To tell— he always acted the Inside. 

Thus Daw "with Fortune almost out of suits," 
Unfit to shew himself or utter words, 

"\Viiggled into the Parts of all the Brutes, 
And all the larger Birds. 

He was the stateliest Ostrich seen, for struts, 

Unrivall'd in the bowels of a Boar, 
Great and majestick in a Lion's guts, 

And a fine Tiger, both for walk and roar. 

A noted Connoisseur was heard to swear, 
(From minor merits far from a detractor) 

There was no bearing any outside Bear, 
If Mr. Daw were not the inside Actor. 

Sometimes, a failure his great name would tarnish; 

Once, acting in a Dragon, newly painted, 
The Ceruse, turpentine and varnish, 

Gave him thecolick and the Dragon fainted. 

Once, too, when drunk in Cerberus oh ! shame i 

He fell asleep within the Dog's internals ;— 

Thus Mr. Widtbread's Porter overcame 
The Porter to the King of the Internals. 

But in dumb Follies that succeed the Play, 

His reputation roie so fast, 

That he war call'd par excellence, at last, 
The great Intestine Roscius of his dar. 

Xet frequently it has been shewn, 
Ata* Hi5H>ry hath often stated, 



69 

A Hero meets in his career a check ; 
Sometimes in battle he is overthrown, 
Sometimes he is assassinated, 

And sometimes, he's suspended by the neck. 
Sundry the ways, when Fortune's scurvy, 
In which a Hero is turn'd topsy-turvy. 

Christinas was coming on— -those merry times, 

When, in conformity to ancient rules, 
Grand Classic Theatres Give Pantomimes, 

For the delight of Innocents and Fools ; 
That is, (if I may make so bold.) 
For Children who are young— and Children who are old, 

A pasteboard Elephant, of monstrous size, 
Was formed tobies* a Learned Nation's eyes, 

And charm the sage theatrical resorters ; 
And, as two men were necessary in it, 
It was decreed, in an unlucky minute, 

That Mr. Daw should fill the hinder quarters. 

The Hinder Quarters ! ! !— here was a degradation ! 
Gods ! mighty Daw !— what was thy indignation 1 
He swore a tragic oath ;— " by her who bore him !" 

(Meaning the Dresser of the Tragic Queens) 
"No individual behind the scenes, 

Should walk in any Elephant before him. 

He'd rather live on husks, 
Or dine upon his nails, 
Than quit First Parts, under the trunks and tusks. 

And stoop to Second Rates, beneath the tails ! 
'Twas due to his celebrity, at least, 

If he should so far condescend 
To represent the moiety of a beast, 

That he should have the right to chuse which end.' 



70 

Tie Managers were on the Stage ; 
To whom he, thus, remonstrated in rage. 

•'I've been chief Lion, and first Tiger here, 

For fifteen year ; 

That, you may tell me, matters not a souse; 

But, what is more, 

All London says, I am the greatest Boa* 
You ever had in all your Hou^e. 

Of all Insides, the Town likes me the best ; 

Over my head no Underling shall jump ; 

I'll play your front legs, shoulders, neck and breast, 

But damn me if I act your loins and rump 1" 

Tho' this address was coarser than jack-towels, 
Altho 1 the speaker's face made men abhor him, 

Yet, when a man acts nothing else but bowels, 
The Managers might have some bowels for him 

And if obdurate Managers could feel 

A little more than Hint or steel 

If they had any heart, 
On hearing such a forcible appeal, 

They might have let the man reject the part- 
All the head Manager said to it, 
"Was simply this " Daw, you must do it." 

And, after all, the Manager was right ; 

Bui how to make the fact appear 

Incontrovertible and clear. 
And place it in its proper light.. 
Puzzles me quite ! 



71 

Come let us try.— Reader, 'twould make you sweat, 
(You'll pardon the expression) 
To see two fellows get, 

With due discretion 

One upright, one aslant » 

Into the entrails of an Elephant : 

For. if you'll have the goodness to reflect 

On the construction of these huge brute creatures, 
You'll see the man in front must walk erect ; 
While he who goes behind must bend, 
Stooping, and bringing down his feature!, 

Over the front man's latter end : 

And the beast's shape requires, particularly, 
The tallest man to march first, perpendicularly. 

Now, the new inside man, you'll find, 

Was taller by a head than Daw ; 
Therefore 'twas fit that Daw should walk belling 

According both to Equity and Law. 

Daw, for a time, with jealousy was rack'd, 
And with his rival wouldn't act; 
Nevertheless, 
Like other Politicians in the Nation, 
Who can't have all their wishes, 
He chose, at last, to coalesce, 
Rather than lose his situation, 
And give up all the loaves and fishes. 

The House was cramm'd— the Elephant appear'd ; 
With three times three the Elephant was cheer'd ; 

Shouts and Huzzas the ear confound ! 
The Building rings ; the Building rocks ; 
The Elephant the Pit ; the Elephant each Box, 

The Elephant the Galleries resound .' 



72 

The Elephant walk'd down, 
Before the lamps, to fascinate the Town. 

Daw, with his ugly face inclin'd 

Just over his tall rival's skirts, 
Bore horrizontallv, in mind 

His Self-Love's bruizes, and ambition's hurts. 

Hating the man by whom he was disgvac'd, 

Who from his cap had pluck'd the choicest feather 
He bit him in the part where Honour's plac'd, 
Till his teeth met together. 

On this attack from the ferocious Daw, 

Upon his Fats Bos, 
The man, unable to conceal his pain, 

Roar'd and writhed, 

Roar'd and writhed, 
Roar'd and writhed, and roar'd again ! 

That Beasts should roar, is neither new nor queer, 

But, on a repetition of the spite, 
How was the House electrified to hear 

The Elephant say—" Curse you, Daw, don't bite !-" 

Daw persever'd : unable to get out, 

The Tall Man fac'd about, 

And with great force the mighty Daw assail'd ;—— 
Both, in the dark, were now, at random fighting, 
Huffing and cuffing, kicking, scratching, biting. 

Although neither of the combitants prevail'd. 

It was the strongest precedent, by far, 

In ancient or in modern story, 
Of such a desperate intestine war, 

Waged in so small a territory ! 



n 

And, in this Civil Brawl, like any other, 

Where every man in arms, his country shatters. 

The two inhabitants thump'd one another 
Till they had torn the Elephant to tatters ;— 
And thus, uncased, the Rival Actors 

Stood bowing to their generous Benefactors- 

Uproar ensued ! from every side, 

Scene-shifters ran to gather up the hide ; 

Wiiile the Two Bowels in dismay, 
Miss'd, hooted, damn'd and pelted— walk'd awaj, 



Reader, if you would, further, know 
The History of Mr. Daw, 'tis brief;—— 

He died, not many months ago, 
Of mortified Ambition, and of^iief: — 

For when live Quadrupeds usurp'd the Stage. 

And which are now (but mayn't be long) the rage,, 
He went to bed, 
And never, afterwards, held up his head. 
Awhile he languished, looking pale and wan; 
Then, dying, said — — « Daw's occupation's gone V] 



TWO PARSONS; 



THE TALE OF A SHIRT. 



Paupertas omnes artes perdocet.——Plautns. 

ADAM and EVE were, at the World's beginning, 
Asham'd of nothing, till they took to sinning : 
But after Adam's slip— the first was Eve's— 

With sorrow big, 

They sought the Fig, 
To cool their blushes, with its banging leaves. 

Whereby, we find 
That when all things were recent, 
(So paradoxical is human kind !) 
Till folks grew naughty, they were barely decent. 
Thus Dress may date its origin 
From Sin ; 
Which proves, beyond the shadow of dispute, 
How many owe their livelihoods to Fruit :— 

For Fruit caus'd Sin; and Sin brought Shame; 
Ami all through Shame our Dress( s came ; 
With <! ..t sad Stopper of our breath. 
Death I 



75 

Now* had not Woman work'd our fall, 
How oany, who have trades and avocations, 
Would shut up shop, in these our polish'd nations, 

And have no business to transact, at all ! 

In such an instance, what, pray, would become 

Of all our reverend Clergy ? 

They would bethought uueommouly hum-drum, 
And banish'd in a trice, 

Who, zealously, Tor pay, should urge ye 
Xot to be Vicious, it' there were no Vice. 

What would become of all the fie-fie Ladies ? 

And all Proprietors of paw-paw Houses ? 
And all the learned Proctors, whose grave trade is 

Parting from bed and board, the paw-paw spouses ! 

What would become of Heirs at Law, alas ! 

However Lawyers ferreted, 
If Relatives to death would never pass, 

And Heirs at Law never inherrited ? 

What would become of all 'tis hard to say !) 
Who -strive on Vice— but in a various way ?— — 
Those who maintain themselves bysiiil maintaining it, 
And those who live by scourging and restraining it. 

Again— if we should never die nor dress, 
Bi:r walk, immortally, in nakedness, 
'Twouldbe a very losing game for those 
Who furnish us with Funerals, and Clothes. 

To sum the matter up. then, briefly, 

Losers through Innocency, would be, chiefly — ■ 



76 

Tke Lord Chief Justice. Undertakers, 
Hatters, Shoe, Boot, ami Breeches Makes; 
Jack Ketches, Parsons, Tailors, Proctors, 
Mercers and Milliners, perhaps Quack Doctors , 
Hosiers, and Resurection-Men, 

Sextons the Bow -Street Officers and the<f : 

Those infinitely grander Drudges, 

The big-wigg'd circuiteering Judges : 

The venal Fair, who kiss to eat, 
The Key-Keeper of Chandois Street ; 

The pooh .'—there ne'er could be an end orr't 

Should I attempt to count them all, depend on'i. 
We know "hoc genu* omne" dail> is 
Before our eyes ll cum muftis alt 

But who would, then, have heard of, by the by, 

The Vice-Suppressing, starch'd Society? 

That tribe of self-erected Frigs— whose leaven 

Consists in buckramising souls for Heaven ; 

Those stiff-rump'd Buzzards, who evince the vigou;- 

Of Christian virtue, by Unchristian rigour ; 

Those Quacks, and Quixotes, who. in coalition) 

Compose the Canters' s< cret Inquisition ; 

Dolts in our tolerating constitution, 

Who turn Morality to Persecution, 

And thro' their precious pates' fanatic twisty 

Are part Informers, Spies and Methodists ? 

What would become of these ? no matter what : 

It matters not at all, 

What would befall 
Each bigot Ass, or fcypocritick Sot* 



But since, ah well a day ! that Death and Dress 
Hare both obtain'd, what can our gtfieft express, 

To see poor Parsons— some are poor, 'tis reckon'd— 
Prepare us for the first, and want the second. 

Great Britain's principal Soul-Mender 

Liveth at Lambeth Palace, in great splendour ;— 

A Curate is another sort of man, 

Very unlike the Metropolitan, 

Living (without a Living) as he can. 

This last, who toils in a twofold vocation, 
That is, between his Wife and Congregation, 

Is, thereby, getting, all the while 

Which sure must raise (if nothing else) his brie.. 
Scarce any thing but Children and Vexation. 

"Whene'er his Text he is about to handle, 
Lulling to sleep his Sunday people, 
'lis wondrous how his zeal 
Cau burn at all, with scarce a meal— 
And not go out just like a Candle, 

Under his great Extinguisher, the Steeple : 

So small the salary and fees, 

To help the kneeler mend his breeches' knee*. 

Oh ! how must his Parishioners be hurt, 
While their good Pastor is his text pursuing, 
To know his surplice hinders them from viewing 

His ragged Small-clothes ragged as his Shirt ! 

This .heme !— to Volumes I c,puld swell it ;— — 
But thereby hangs a Tale ; I'll tell it, 



78 

Ozias Polyglot, a Kentish Curate, 
So mucli Ins orthodoxy manifested, 
That by one Heathen Power lie was detested, 

Who to poor Polyglot was most obdurate. 

This mythologick Deity was Plutus, 

The grand Divinity of Cash ; 
Who, when he rumps us quite, and wont salute us, 

If we are men in Commerce, then we smash. 

If men of large Estate, then we retrench ;— 
But, if we are, in all respects, 
Mere simple Debtors, sans efFects, 
Hoping that Plutus may not always frown, 
We then, as calmly as we can. sit down, 
The King (Heaven bless him finding us a Bench. 

The God of Cash, hath, latterly display'd 

Much spite to sundry Citizens in trude ; 

Abandoning, to the World's wonder, 

Proud Firms, with whom 'twas thought he ne'er woti 

sunder. 
He hath, moreover, look'd a little blank, 
And shewn a kind of coolness to the Bank, 
The mighty Bank, at whose command is 
Great credit, and resource, has, all the while, 
Return'd the coolness with no sort of bile, 
To make men think it has the yellow jaundice : 

But, finding Guineas in the Till run taper, 
Has, providently, stopp'd the slit with Paper. 

Now, Plutus having turn'd his baek 
«n poor Ozias Polyglot.- 



79 

The lazy, fat, Incumbent's hack—— 
What had he got ? 
I'll tell you what. 

He had got Twins, for three years running ; 
Which for a Curate is not over-cunning, 

Who never is in riches wallowing ;— 

But, for the three years following, 
(And 'twas less hard, in his uxorious cafse) 
His loving Rib, instead of Duce threw Ace. 

In matters of Arithmetiek. 
At which I never boasted to be quick, 
He whose sage head is better, far, tha;. mine, 
Will find, according to my calculation, 
Errors excepted, in the computation, 
Ozias, in six years, got babies Nine ! 

The Parson dearly loved his darling pets, 
Sweet, little, ruddy ragged Parsonets ! 

Then — which for all his drudging, was not dear* 
This meek Improver of his Congregation, 
This Pious Helper of our Population, 

Had got— just Twenty-Seven Pounds, per year. 

Still had Ozias Polyglot, 

V ith alibis gettings; never got, 
Wh i eat die good man's trouble was not small., 

An invitation to the HALL; 

"W '.it re d\\ i It a thing of consequence, thro' Mire, 
A many-acred, two-iegg'tl Ass— the Squire. 

'Tis true, the Country Squire of modern days, 
Is greatly mended like his roads and ways: 



80 

He is not, now, we know, 
That Porker lit- appear'd, some years ago ;— ~ 
That swinish, stupid, fatlen'd Lord of Grounds 

That Hog of hampering capacity; 
With far more noise than any of his Hound* 
And infinitely less sagacity. 

He is not, now, as he was wont to be, 
So much the Cock of all his company. 
He is not that tyrannic Wise-Man, 
Who, in a territory of his own, 
Can " bear no Rival near his throne," 
And. therefore, asks to dine, five days in six. 
That he may knock them down in politick'. 
The unresisting Lawyer, and Exciseman. 

If such a character should still remain, 

'Twas not the Squire who now possest the Hr<!i 

He had not in his character a grain 
Of such a character, at all. 

No ;— he had travell'd ; and he knew 
At least set up to know, (which is the same 
For Fools, who get from Fools a sort of name.) 

Much about Paintings, Statutes, and I'irttl. 

His mansion was the Pink of Taste and Art : 

His charming Pictures !— oh, how they delighted jou 
In his Saloon Egyptian Monsters frighted you ; 
And Pagods, on his Stair-Case, made you start. 

Nothing surpass'd his Carpets, and his draperies, 
His clocks, chairs, tables, sofas, ottomans ;— 

His rooms were crowded with Etruscan aperies, 
Fine noseless busts, and Roman pots and pans. 



81 

He had a marble Venus, on a stand, 
Wanting: a leg-, and a right hand ; 
A sweeter piece of Art was never found ;— 
Had not those Brutes, the sailors, rot 'em! 
In bringing her from Rome, knock'd off her bottom 
She would have sold for Thirty Thousand Pound. 

His Candlesticks, when guests retired to beds, 
Were Cleopatras, splash'd with or moitlu, 
Or squab Mark Antonies, antiquely new, 

With wax-lights, ram'd into their hands or heads. 

In every bed-room there were placed *" 
Knick-Knackeries of wondrous taste, 
Witb shells and spars, stuff'd birds, and flies inambev. 
And, by the side of every bed, 
There stood a Grecian Urn, instead 
Of what is call'd, in Fiance, a pot de ckambre. 

To seethe wonders of a House thus stock'd. 
His London Friends, in shoals, came down, 
Though he resided sixty miles from Town, 

%nd parties upon parties flock'd. 

Now, they who came these vanities to view 
Did not care two-pence for Virtu ; 

Nor for the Dwelling, nor the Dweller ; 

But they delighted very much to look 
On the rare carve-work of the Squire's French Cook. 
And to inspect with special care, 
Those crusted Vessels, dragg'd to air, 
From the great Herculanium, his Cellar. 



82 

la Aort, whatever the season or the weather, 

They kindly came, to breakfast, dine and sup.. 
At the Squire's charge for weeks together ; 

Giving themselves most eomplaisantly up 
To sensuality— and all iniquity : 
Kissing the rural Venuses they found, 
With cherry-cheeks, on the Squire's Ground; 

Till the poor Damsels they attack'd, 

Were characters as crack'd, 
As^iis crack'd Venus of Antiquity. 

The Londoners thus crowding to the Hall^ 

It was no wonder 

That Parson Polyglet knock'd under, 
And never poked his nose in it, at all. 

Besides the Squire for neighbours had a dread, 
And always " cut the natives," as he said. 

An accident, at last, however, granted 

To Parson Polyglot the very thing 

(As Iris said to the Rutulian King,*) 
That Fate ne'er promis'd, and he so much wanted. 

Some Wags were on a visit to the Squire, 

Famous adepts in practicable joking— 
Which is as much true wit as smoke is fire, 

Or puffing empty pipes tobacco-smoaking. 

i hese lively Apes of Genius v. ho, for ever, 

Their jests can as mechanically grind 
As barrel-organ men their tunes— opin'd 

Moaxiug a Parson m as prodigious clever ! 

* « Turne, quod optanti Divum promitterc nemo 

■ diesi er^altulit ultra."— Virg. JEts 



82 

Therefore a Messenger was sent, 

To run as fast as he was able, 
With more of a command thancomplimeu-:, 

And bid Ozias to the Great Man's table. 

The invitation made the Curate start !■— 
Though worldly vanity could never bias, 
Till now, the meek affections of Ozias, 

Vain-Glory glow'd in his parsonic heart. 

His eye shot ostentatious fire, 
(The first it ever shot off in his life,) 
"When he was told by his prolific Wife, 

The message that was sent him, from thV Squire. 

How oft it pains Historians to relate 

The truths which Truth obliges them to state ! 

The Fact, alas! must out :— then be it known., 

The Reverend Ozias Polyglot 

(Much about gettings has been said)— had got 

Only one Shirt that he could call his own. 

He, now, had spared it ; 
And he wus lying, snug, between 
Two blankets, till his Rib had wash'd it clean^ 

And pleated it, and iron'd it, and air'd it. 

She had that instant hung it on the line,, 

When the man knock'd, to bid him forth to dine. 

The Parish Clock struck Five ;— at Six 
The Great Man chose his dinner-hour to fix. 

'Twas three miles, in the dirt, 
Up hill, from the poor Pavson's to the Hall :— 



84 

" Come duck !" he cried, " make haste and dry the 
Shirt, 
Or else I shan't get there in time, at all." 

Vain the attempt !— his Duck refused to try it, 
Swearing it was impossible to dry it. 

The Curate bid her pull it off the cord, 

And vow'd into his shirt he'd get ;— 
Says Mrs. Polyglot, "good Lord ! 

You're mad, Ozias ; vy it is wringing vet !" 

<; Where is my neckloth. then ?"— another rub \ 
"Twas soaking -it thf bottom of the Tub. 

Never was hapless Preacher more perplex'd ! 

"Woman!" he bawl'd, "you see how time doth press 
me : 
In all my life I never was so vex'd !"— 

Then, gulping 'dam'me,' substituted ' bless mc !' 

Thoughts kick'd up in his brain a sort of schism ; 

What measure to adopt ?— or what decline ? 

Was he to roll in bed ? — or go to dine ?— — 
Affront the Squire— or get the Rheumatism 

On one side lay his interest, and Ambition ! 
" A Patron might so better his condition !" 
But, then, on t'other side, 

His fears arose ; 
" Folks lost the use of all their limbs, or died,' 
He had been told, " by sitting in wet clothes.'' 

M What would my Flock do ?— all my honest neighbour 
If Death should, shortly, end my pious labours 



85 

Wife, what would You do, if disease assail'd me ? 
And, all at once, my precious members fail'd me! 

People, unbl est by Fortune's gifts, 

Wanting clean Shirts, will often, find out Shifts, 

The Parson's Surplice was laid by 
For Sabbath— neatly folded up, and dry; 
And, from the tail of that, 
His loving Helpmate snipp'd a slice, 
Which, in a trice, 
Made him a very long and white Cravat :— — 

So long, indeed whereat he was fuTT glad- 
That, (though 'Twas narrow) from his chin 
Down to his knees— Ozias being thin 

It hid, in front, what skin Ozias had. 

Tied round his neck, it look'd extremely spruce ; 

He button'd np his waistcoat to the top ; 
Popt on his wig well floured for Sunday's use, 

To save expences at the Barber's shop. 

'The Clock chimed half past Five;—" as I'm a sinner ! 

The Churchman said, "I shall be very late. 

But I'm equip'd." He kiss'd his loving mate, 
And ran up hill, thro' clay, three miles to dinner. 

Criticks may say ■ 

" Why did Ozias scour, 
And scamper up so fast, through clay ? 
Dinner at Six is scarce a Curate's hour; 
Had not the Parson dined already, pray ?" 
Ye Sages, who, minutely, thus object, 
Know, first, the Parson did it from respect, 
And, nest— —he had uot diued at all that day. 



so 

Pert, hireling 1 Criticks ! self-sufficient eUes ] 
Pray, did you never want a meal yourselves ? 

Ozias reach'd the Hall, puffing and blowing—— 

Exactly as appointed— little knowing 
How long for dinner he was doom'd to wait : 

He knew not (simple Servitor of Heaven !) 

That Fashion's Six mean* half past Six, for Seven 
And, Seven come, the guests arrive at Eight. 

A shoulder-knotted Puppy, with a grin, 
Queering the threadbare Curate, let him in. 

Passing full many a Sphinx, and Griffin's head, 
The Churchman to the "Drawing-Room was led j— 

No soul was there ; 

But oh ! its grandeur !— how it made him stare ! 

The Elegancies that he saw 
Fill'd the Religionist with worldly awe ; 
The Draperies, and Mirrors much surprised him 
But when (recovering) he threw 
His eyes on the collection of Virtu, 

Nudities quite shock'd, and scandalized him 

Titan's famed Goddess, in luxurious buff, 

Was the first Piece the Parson thrust his nose on ; 
This prurient Picture surely was enough 

Gzias to confound ; 

So he turn'd round 
Upon a plump Diana with no clothes en. 

The holy man observed, in every part, 

Objects that "charm'd his eyes, and grieved his heart. ; ' 

He felt, all over him, a mix'd sensation, 

A kind of shocking, pleasing, queer flustration- 



87 

" Fie on't !" he mutter'd, " I declare 
Such Pictures should not on a wall be stuck ; 

I ne'er saw any thing so very bare, 
Except 'twas Mrs. Polyglot, my Duck. 

And if that naked Nymph, who looks so smugly, 
Is Beauty's type— —then it must be confest 
That Mrs. Polyglot, when quite undrest 

Is most astonishingly ugly!" 

The Butler enter'd now, with cake and wine, 

And told him as he went away, 

'Twould be an hour, at least, he dar'd to say c 
.Before the company sat down to dine. 

Polyglot toss'd a bumper off;— it cheer'd 
The cockles of his heart and gave him vigour 

To face (what he so much before had fear'd) 
The Squire, and all the Gentlefolks of Figure. 

He took a second bumper— which so fired him, 
With so much gaity inspired him, 
That he became another creature quite, 
And view'd all matters in a different light. 

At all the objects, which had shock'd his gravity, 
He first began to smile — though very slightly ; 
But soon, with more complacency and suavity ;— - 
Then, in a leering way, that borders 
Upon a style reckon'd extremely sprightly, 
For any married man, in holy orders. 

lie thought the Titian Beauty quite divine ;— — > 

This Shape was 'exquisite !' that Posture 'fine!' 

And all the unclad Ladies charm'd him now; 



88 

xe pvcn put his finger upon one. 

And cried "how naturally that is done ! 

Aye, that's the life, the very thing, I vow !" 

Before a Glass, he next, began to strut ; 
His flour'd wig in better order put 

And smooth'd against his sleeve his napless hat ; 
Call'd up a smirk he ne'er bad known to fail, 
Pull'd higher round his neck the surplice's tail, 

That serv'd for his cravat ; 

Which tail as has been stated) being ample, 
He thought it not amiss to give a sample 

That of clean linen he had, now, no lack ; 
So twitch'd a little at his waistband, out, 
To make the Party think, beyond a doubt, 

He really had a shirt upon his back. 

The Squire and all his Friends, at length appear 'd , 
Ozias, who, when by himself, had swagger'd, 
Was stagger'd ; 

Yet,welcom d by the Squire, was somewhat cheer'd. 

Rut, to all polish'd company unns'd, 
When to the Gentry he was introdue'd 
He, all the while, 
Was trembling at the knees ; 
And, trying to assume an air of ease, 
" Grinn'd horribly, a ghastly smile V 

The Wags with starch grimace receiv'd the Parson.. 
Vnd carried, with great gravity, the farce on; 

They didn't quiz too much at the beginning; 
But all the Ladies of high Ton and Taste, 

Titter'd, and turn'd aside, to see hi? linen 
Teep out so ostentatious, near his waisti 



89 

?Twould be most tedious to describe 
The common-place of this facetious tribe, 

These wooden Wits, these Quizzers, Queerers, Smoker; 

These practical, nothin^-so-easy Jokers ; 
Pert, Barbarous insolents, who think it fine, 
And clever, to insult a poor Divine ; 

Who talk with fluency mere pun, and jingle ;— *» 
But it is necessary, by the by, 
To state, that in the company 

There was the Reverend Obadiah Pringle. 

He was the Chaplain to a Lord, 

Who sat among the guests at table ; 
But there was nothing which my Lord abhorM 
So much as preaching ;- — so the Chaplain, s : 

Had got a sinecure ; 

Not so ;— he regulated my Lord's Stable ; 
Drank with my Lord— the Irish Lord O'Gradj r , 
And was the Toady of my Lord's kept Lady„ 

Enough ;— Readers will be content 
To hear that dinner pass'd ;— when Ladies went. 
Then, in a brimmer, Mother Church was toasted 
With jokes and winks, 
Double entendres, nods and blinks, 
And Parson Polyglot was nicely roasted : 

But meek Ozias was not hoax'd alone 

Some jibes at Parson Pringle too were thrown, 

At length 'twas time that Polyglot should go ; 
And did he .'—that he didn't ;— no 

It had been, all the day, most sultry weather, 
And now it thunder'd, and it Iighten'd ; 

The Ladies of high ton were vastly trie,. 



90 

They vow'd that Heaveu and Earth would come l* 
gether. 

It rain'd (as people term it) Cats anil Dogs 

Delighting much the fishes, ducks and frogs. 

Ihere was no choice ;— 
The general voice 
Proelaim'd Ozias could not stir ; 
To which Ozias, knowing that his way 
Lay, in a stormy night, thro' mud and e|»y, 
Said nothing in the shape of a demur. 

But how to stow him was the question ; 

The House was cramm'd 

"With married visitors, and single ; 
The question then was brought to this digestion-- 

That Parson Polyglot must now be ramm'd 
Into a garret bed with Parson Pringle. 
'■ Twas settled ;— but Ozias, in his sleeve, 

(Not in his shirt-sleeve) felt extremely hurt 
To think his brother Parson might perceive 

A Clergyman, without one bit of shirt. 

And, then, on t'other side, 
The Chaplain had his sentiments to hide ; 
The Reverend Mr. Pringle wanted not 
Into a garret, first, to creep with, 
And then (if sleep coald close his eyes) to sleep with 
The Reverend Ozias Polyglot. 

" Well, men must yield to the decrees of Fate !" 
Mutter'd the Chaplain, in a tone emphatick ; 

And, as it now was getting very late, 
The brace of Parsons mounted to the Attick. 



9i 

To pull his clothes off, Polyglot 
Behind the bed-curtain had got, 
Shirking, and dodging 
From his Co-Partner, in their lofty lodging ; 
And, when undress'd, he stood there quite forloru. 
He watch'd till Pringle turn'd away his head, 
Then took a sudden flying leap to bed, 
Stark naked as he was when he was born ! 

Scrambling the sheets and blankets round his shoulder' , 
He was secure, he thought, from all beholders ; 
But to put the matter out of doubt, 
He said to Pringle, "When you are undresr, 
I'll thank you, Sir, before you go to rest, 
To turn the candle down, or blow it out." 

" Nay, there you must excuse me ;" Pringle cried, 
" These thirty years I havn't slept one night 

"Without a lamp, or any sort of light; 
'Twill burn quite safe, Sir, by the chimney side. 

The Chaplain left the light to blaze •> 
Getting to bed, the clothes aside hekick'd ; 

When, what could paint his horror and amaze. 
To see Ozias bare as any Pict ! 
4f Bless us !" he groan'd, his feelings vastly hurt, 
{s Sir, do you always sleep without your Shirt V 

Says Polyglot— —'twas said quite cooly too— 
" Certainly, Mr. Pringle ;— pray don*'! you ?" 

" Who I ? — Lord, no ;" the Chaplain cried ; 

"Why then it is, sir," Polyglot replied, 

:; The mos% uawhoisome thing that you caa 



I had it from a Doctor, Sir, who drivo* 

His carriage ; he is in the highest practice 

And he assures me, on his word, the fact is, 

Since practice he has been in, 
He has known many hundreds lose their lives, 

Or shorten them, by sleeping- in their linen. 

>~ow, Pringle was a very nervous man, 
And very credulous withal!;— he mutter \1 

- Can it be possible !"' and then, began 

To swallow all the lies Ozias utter'd. 

Ozias cited cases eight or nine, 
Which he said came within his knowledge, 
Besideiexamples from the college, 



IcS C 

'illP- 



Of wasting, sweating, hectitks, and decline ; 

And talk'd so much " about it, and about it." 
That Pringle, with a melancholy air, 
Pull'd off his shirt, and laid it on the chair, 

And went to bed, and then to sleep without it 

Next morning, Parson Folyglot 

"Was first awake so out of bed he got ; 

And, thinking 'twould not much his carcase hur; 

He drest himself in Parson Pringlc's shirt :— 

He then proceeded down the stairs. 

Giving himself a thousand foppish airs- 
Leaving his bed-fellow to snore his fill out.; 

And hearing in the breakfast room was met 

The last night's fashionable set, 
He strutted up to them with a large frill out. 



6o 

In twenty minutes after, 
Convulsing all the Wags with laughter, 
?n rush'd the Chaplain of his shirt bereft, 
And pluinply charg'd Ozias with the theft ; 

He said that he could prove it by his mark — - 
Meaning the mark upon the linen's side ;— 
But had this been by marking Judges tried, 

The Jury would have still be in the dark ; ■ 

For their names happen'd so far to agree, 
Both their initials were an O and P. 

S v o this could not have made the matter quiet ; 

Without a confirmation much more strong, 
Settling the question would have been as long 

A.s the fam'd Covcnt-Garden O. P. riot. 

# 

Pringle averr'd— indeed he almost swore 

That, having search 'd their sleeping room, 
'Twas fair, from circumstances to presume 

Ozias had no shirt the day before. 

This charge the females seenrd not to endure ; 
For all the Ladies of high Ton and Taste, 
Remembering what had stuck out near his waist, 

Cried, " Oh, Sir, that he had, we're very sure !" 

In short, the Chaplain was oblig'd to yield ; 
And brave Ozias, the incumbent's Hack, 
Much better'd, as to belly and to back, 

March'd homeward, fed and shitted , from the FielS- 

But, not to leave his character in doubt, 
Or lest the Clergy should be scandalized. 



94 

'Tis fit the reader should be advertised, 
"When Mrs. Polyglot had wash'd it out, 
Ozias took the shirt to the Green Dragon , 

And, thence, anonymously sent 

To Pringle, at my Lord's, in Town, it went, 
And the right owner got it by the Waggon, 



BROAD GRINS, &c. 



TOM, DICK, and WILL, were little known to Fame J 

No matter; 

But to the Ale-house, oftentimes they came, 

To chatter. 

It was the custom of these three 
To sit up late ; 
And o'er the embers of the Ale-house fire 
When steadier customers retire, 
The choice Triumviri, d'ye see, 
Held a debate. 

Held a debate ? On politics no doubt. 

Not so ;— they cared not who was in, 

No, not a pin 

Nor who was out. 

Ail their discourse on modern Poets van ; 

For in the Muses was their sole delight : 
They talk'd of such and such, and such a man ; 

Of those who could, and those who could not write. 

It cost them very little pains 
To count the modern Poets, who had brain?. 
Twas a small difficulty ;— 'twasn't any 
They were so few j 



96 

But to cast up the scores of men 
Who wield a stump they call a pen. 

Lord ! they had much to do 

They were so many ! 

Buoy'd on a sea of fancy, Genius rises, 
And like the rare Leviathan surprises; 
But the small fry of ssrihblers .'— tiny souls ! 
They wriggle through the mud in shoals. 

It would have raised a smile to see the face* 
They made, and the ridiculous grimaces, 

At many an author as they overhaul'd him. 
They gave no quarter to a calf, 
Blown up with puff and paragraph ; 

But, if they found him bad. they maul'd him. 

On modern Dramatists they fell, 

Pounce, vi et ay-mis— tooth and nail— pell mcll. 

They call'd them Carpenters, and Smugglers ; 
Filching their incidents from ancient hoards, 
And knocking them together, like deal boards : 

And Jugglers ; 
Who all the town's attention fix, 
By making— Plays T— No Sir ; by making trick?. 

The Versifiers— Heaven defend us ! 

They play'd the very devil with their rhymes-. 
They hoped Apollo a new set would send us ; 
And then, invidiously enough, 
Placed modish verse, which they call'd stufT 
Against the writings of the elder times. 

To say the truth, a modem versifier 
Clap'd cheek by jowl 



97 

With Pope, with Dryden, and with Prior, 
Would look damn'd scurvily, upon my soul ! 

For Novels, should their critic hints succeed, 
The Misses might fare better when ihey took 'em ; 

But it would fare extremely ill, indeed, 
With gentle Messieurs Lane and Hookham. 

" A Novel, now," says Will, " is nothing more 
Than an old castle— and a creaking door— — 

A distant hovel- 
Clanking of chains— a gallery— a light- 
Old armor— and a phantom all in white— 

And there's a Novel ! 

Scourge me such catch-penny inditers 

Out of the land," quoth Will— rousing in passion— 
•' And fie upon the readers of such writers, 

Who bring them into fashion !" 

Will rose in declamation. " 'Tis the bane," 
Says he, " of youth ; 'tis the perdition : 

It fills a giddy female brain 
With vice, romance, lust, terror, pain— 
With superstition. 

Were I pastor in a boarding-school, 

Id quash such books in toto ;— if I couldn't, 

Let me but catch one Miss that broke my rule, 
I'd flog her soundly ; damme if I wouldn't." 

William, 'tis plain, was getting in a rage ? 

But, Thomas dryly said— for he was cool— — > 
" I think no gentleman would mend the age 

By flogging Ladies at a Boarding-School.' 3 . 



98 

Wick knock r d the ashes from his pipe, 

And aid. "Friend Will, 
You give the Novels a fair wipe ; 

But still, 
While you, my friend, with passion run 'em down. 
They're in the hands of all the town. 

The reason's plain,"' proceeded Dick, 

" And simply thus 

Taste, over-glutted, grows deprav'd, and sick, 

And needs a stimulus. 

Time was (when honest Fielding writ)— — 

Tales full of Nature, Character, and Wit, 
Were reckon 'd most delicious boil'd and roast : 

But stomachs are so cloy'd with novel-feeding. 

Folks get a vitiated taste in reading, 
And want that strong provocative, a Ghost. 

Or, to come nearer, 

And put the case a little clearer :— 
Minds, just like bodies, suffer enervation- 

By too much use ; 
And sink into a state of relaxation, 

With long abuse. 

Now, a Romance, with reading Debauchees, 
Rouses their torpid powers, when Nature fails ; 
Ami all these Legendary Tales 
Are, to a worn out mind, Cantharides. 

But how to cure the evil ? you will say ; 
My Recipe is laughing it away. 

™>ay bare the weak farago of these men 
Who fabricate such visionary sch 



§9 



As if the Night-Mare rode upon their pen. 
And troubled all their ink with hideous dreams. 

For instance— when a solemn Ghost stalks in, 

And, thro' a mystic tale is busy, 
Strip me the Gentleman into his skin— 
What is he? 

Truly, ridiculous enough : 

Mere trash ;— and very childish stuff*. 

Draw but a Ghost, or Fiend, of low degree. 
And all the bubble's broken .—Let ns see." 



THE WATER-FIENDS. 

"ON a wild Moor, all brown and blea"k, 

Where broods the heath-frequenting grouse. 

There stood a tenement antique ; 
Lord Hoppergollop s country-house. 

Here silence reign'd, with lips of glue, 
And undisturb'd maintam'd her law ; 

Save when the Owl evy'd " whoo! whoo ! whoo !'•' 
Or the hoarse Crow croak' d "caw- caw; caw!" 

Neglected mansion ! for 'tis said, 

Whene'r the snow came feathering down. 

Four barbed steeds— from the Bull's head- 
Carried thy roaster up l*> town. 



100 

Weep Hoppcrgollop !—— Lords may mcatf. 

Who stake, in London their estate, 
On two. small, ratling, bits of bone; 

On little figure, or on great. 

Swift whirl the wheels.— He's gone.— A Rose 
Remains behind, whose Virgin look, 

I'nseen, must blush in wintry snows, 
Sweet, beauteous blossom ! 'twas the Cook 

A bolder far than my weak note, 
Maid of the Moore J thy charms demand : 

Eels might be proud to lose their coat, 
If skia'd by Molly Dumpling's hand. 

Long had the fair one sat alone, 
Had none remain d save only she ;— — ■ 

She by herself had been— if one 
Had not been left for company. 

"Twas a tall youth, whose cheek's clear hue, 

Was tinged with health and manly toil j 
Cabbage he sow'd ; and, when it grew, 
• He always cut it off", to boil. 

Oft would he cry, " Delve, Delve the hole ! 

And prune the tree, and trim the root ! 
And stick the wig upon the pole. 

To scare the sparrows from the fruit 1" 

A small, mute favourite, by day, 

Follow'd his step ; where'er he wheels 

His barrow round the garden gay, 
A bob-tail cur is at his heels. 

Ah, man ! the brute creation see ! 
Thy constancy oft needs the spur I 



101 

Wkile lessons of fidelity 
Are found in every bob -tail cur. 

Hard toil'd the youth, so fresh and strong 1 , 
While Bobtail in his face would look, 

And mark'd his master troll the song— — 
•? Sweet Molly Dumpling ! Oh, thou Cook V J 

For thus he sung ; while Cupid smiled ;— 

Pleased that the Gard'nerown'd his dart, 

Which pruned his passion, running wild, 
And grafted true-love on his heart. 

Maid of the Moor ! his love return ! 

True love ne'er tints the cheek with shame , 
When Gardners' hearts like hot-beds burn, 

A Cook may surely feed the flame. 

Ah ! not averse from love was she ; 

Tho' pure as Heaven's snowy flake ; 
Both lov d ; and tho' a Gard'ner he, 

He knew not what it was to rake. 

Cold blows the blast ;— the night's obscure . 

The mansion's crazy wainscots crack ; 
No star appcar'd ; — and all the Moor, 

Like ev'ry other Moor was black. 

Alone, pale, trembling, near the fire, 

The lovely Molly Dumpling sat 
Much did she fear, aud much admire 

What Thomas Gard'ner could be at. 

List'ning, her hand supports her chin 
But, ah i no foot is heard to stir ; 

He comes not, from the garden, in ; 
Nor he, nor little bobtail cur. 



1Q2 

They cannot come, sweet maid! t« th«e; 

Flesh, both of cur and man. is grass ! 
And what's impossible can't be ; 

And never, never, comes to pass i 

She paces through the hall antique, 
To call her Thomas from his toil ; 

Opes the huge door ;— the hinges creak;—— 
Because the hinges wanted oil. 

Thrice on the threshold of the hall, 
She " Thomas I" cried : with many a sob; 

And thrice on Bobtail did she call, 
Exclaiming sweetly " Bob ! Bob ! Bob 1 

Vain maid ! a Gard'ner's corpse, 'tis said, 

In answers can but ill succeed ; 
And dogs that hear when they are deadj 

Are very cunning dogs indeed. 

Sick thro' the hall she bent her way; 

All, all was solitude around ! 
i he candle shed a feeble ray-— 

Tho' a large mould of four to th' pound. 

Full closely to the fire she drew ; 

Adown her cheek a salt tear stole ; 
When lo ! a coffin out there flew, 

And in her apron burnt a hole ! 

Spiders their busy death-watch tick'd ; 

A certain sign that Fate will frown ; 
The clumsy kitchen clock, too, click'd : 

A certain sign it was not down. 



103 

More strong and strong her terrors rose ;—- • 
Her shadow did the maid appal ;— ■ 

She trembled at her lovely nose- 
It look'd so long against the wall. 

Up to her chamber, damp and cold, 
She climb'd Lord Hoppergollop's stair ;-••- 

Three stories high— long, dull, and old~ 
As great Lords' stories often are. 

All Nature now appear'd to pause ; 

And " o'er the one half world seem'd dead ;" 
No " curtain 'd sleep " had she ; because 

She had no curtains to her bed. 

List'ning she lay ; with iron din, 

The clock struck twelve ; the door flew wide : 
When Thomas, grimly, glided in, 

With little Bobtail by his side. 

Tall, like the poplar, was his size; 

Green, green his waistcoat was, as leeks ; 
Bed, red as beet-root, were his eyes ; 

Pale, pale as turnips, were his cheeks I 

Soon as the spectre she espied, 
The fear-struck damsel faintly said, 

u What wou'd my Thomas ?" he replied., 

" Oh ! Molly Dumpling ! I am dead. 

All in the flower of youth I fell, 

Cut off" with health's full blossom erowu'd ; 
I was not ill— but in a well 

I tumbled backwards, and was drown'd, 



m 

Four fathom deep thy love doth lye , 
His faithful dog his fate doth share ; 

We're Fiends ;— this is not he and I ;. 
We are not here for we are there. 

Yes ;— two foul Water-Fiends are we ; 

Maid of the Moor ! attend us now ! 
Thy hour's at hand ; we come for thee !" 

The little Fiend-Cur said " bow wow !" 

To wind her in her cold, cold grave, 
A Holland sheet a maiden likes ; 

A sheet of water thou shall have ; 
Such sheets there are in Holland Dykes." 

The Fiends approach ; the Maid did shrink ; 

Swift thro the night's foul air they spin ; 
They took her to the green well s brink, 

And, with a souse they plump 'd her in. 

So true the fair, so true the youth, 
Maids, to this day, their story tell ; 

And hence the proverb rose, that Truth 
Lyes in the bottom of a well. 



Dick ended ;— Tom and Will approv'd his strain , 
And thought his Legend made as good a figure 
As naturalizing a dull German's brains, 

Which beget issues in the Heliconian stews, 
Upon a profligate Tenth Muse, 
In all the gloomy impotence of vigour.* 

* N. B. Half our modern Legends are either borrowed 
or translated irom the G«maii. 



m 

u 'Twas now the very witching time of night< 

When Prosersyawn."-Diseussion grew diffuse, 
Argument's carte and tierce were lost, outright ; 
And they fought loose. 

Says Will, quite carelessly « the other day, 

As I was lying on my back, 
In bed, 
I took a fancy in my head ;— 
Some writings aren't so difficult as people say j- 
Theyareaknack." 

What writings ? whose ?» says Tom-raking the cinders. 

-Many," cried Will ; "For instance PETER PIN- 

DARV 
- What ! call you his a knack ?"— « yes-mind his me* 

sure, 
In that lies half the point, that gives us pleasure." 
"Pooh! 'tisnt that," Dick cried— 
" That has been tried, 
Over and over ;— bless your souls ! 
'Tis seen In Crazy Tales, and twenty things beside ; 
His measure is as old as poles." 

•'Granted," cries Will; I know I'm speaking treason 

For Peter, 
With many a joke, and queer conceit, doth season 

His metre ; 

And this I'll say of Peter, to his face, 
As 'twas, time past, of Vambrugh writ-- 

Peter has often wanted grace, 
But he has never wanted wit. 
V 



106 

Yet I will tell you a plain tale, 

And see how far quaint measure will prevail. 



THE 

NEWCASTLE APOTHECARY 

A MAN, in many a country town, wc know. 

Professes openly wkli death to wrestle ; 
Ent ring the field against the grimly f 

Arm'd with a mortar and a pestle. 

Yet, some affirm, no enemies they are ; 
But meet just like prize-fighters in a ; 
Who first shake hnntls before they box 
Then give each other plaguy knocks, 
With all the love and kindness of a broth( i 
So (many a suff'ring Patient saith) 
Tho' the Apothecary fight* with Death, 
Still they're sworn friends to one another. 

A member of this .Esculapian line. 
Lived at Newcastle upon Tyne ; 
No man could better gild a pill ; 

Or make a bill ; 
Or mix a draught, or bleed, or blister . 
Or draw a tooth out of youv head 
Or chatter scandal by your bed ; 

Or eive a dye**!-. 



107 

Of occupations these were quantum svjf. 

Yet, still, ho thought the list not long enough; 

And therefore Midv ifery he chose to pin to'f. 
This balanced things ;— for if he hurl'd 
A few score mortals from the world, 

He made amends by bringing others into't. 

His fame full six miles round the country ran ; 

In short, in reputation he was solus : 
Ail the old women caH'd him " a fine man l n 

His name was Bolus. 

Benjamin Bolus, tho' in trade, 

(Which oftentimes will Genius fetter) 

Read works of fancy, it is said ; 
And cultivated the Belles Lettres. 

And why should this be thought so odd ? 

Can't men have taste who cure a phthysic ■'. 
Of Poetry tho' Patron-God, 

Apollo patronises physick. 

Bolus loved verse ;— -and took so much delight in'f, 
That his prescriptions he resolved to write in't. 

No opportunity he e'er let pass 
Of writing the directions, on his labels, 
In dapper couplets like Gay's Fables ; 

Or, rather, like the lines in Hudibras. 

Apothecary's verse ! and where's the treason : 

'Tis simply honest dealing;— not a crime ; 

When patients swallow physic without reason , 
It is but fair to give a little rhyme. 



108 

He Lad a Tat'ient lying at death's door, 
Some thn" miles from the town— it might be four ; 
To whom, one evening, Rolus sent an article. 
In Pharmacy, that's call'd cathartical. 

And, on the label of the stuff, 

He wrote this verse, 
"Which, one would think, was clear enougb 

And terse ;— 



Wl\cn taken. 

To be well shaken.' 



Next morning, early, Bolus rose ; 

And to the Patient's house he goes ;-— 

Upon his pad, 
Who a vile trick of stumbling had; 
It was, indeed, a very sorry hack i 

But that's of course ; 

For what's expected from a horse 
With an Apothecary on his back ? 

Bolus arrived ; and gave a doubtful tap }t- 
Between a single and a double rap. 

Knocks of this kind 
Are given by Gentlemen who teach to dauce; 
By Fiddlers, and by Opera-singers; 
One loud, and then a little one behind ; 
As if the knocker fell, by chance, 
Out of their fingers. 

The Servant lets him in, with dismal face, 
Long as a courtier's out of pla 
Portending some disaster 



109 

John's ceuntenanee as rueful look'd, and gris. v 
As if th' Apothecary had pbysick'd biru— - 
And not his master. 

" Well, how's the Patient ?'' Bolus said- 
John shook his head, 
*' Indeed !— hum ! ha ! — that's very odd ! 
He took the draught ?'— John gave a nod. 
" Well— how ?— what then?— speak out. you dunce !*' 
M Why then,' —says John—" we shook him onee." 
" Shook him !— how ?"— Bolus stammer'd out ; — 

"We jolted him about." 
" Zounds ! shake a Patient, man !— a shake wont do.^ 
"■ No Sir— and so we gave him two." 

" Two shakes ! ods curse I 

*T would make the Paient worse." 
•'It did so, Sir!— and so a third we tried. 
" Well, and what then ?"— " then, Sir, my •master died. 

Ere Will had done 'twas waxing wond'rous late ; 

And reeling Bucks the street began to scour; 
While guardian Watchmen, with a tottering gait, 

Cried every thing quite clear, except the hour. 

" Another pot,'" says Tom, " and then 

A song ;— and s>o good night, good Gentlemen ! 

I've Lyricks, such as Eons Vivants indite, 
In which your bibbers of Champagne delight — - 
The Poetaster bawling them in clubs, 

Obtains a miserably noted name ; 
And every noisy Bacchanalian dubs 
The Singing- Writer with a bastard Fame 



LODGINGS 



SIXGLE GENTLEMEK. 



'WHO has e'er been in London, that overgrown place, 
Has seen " Lodgings to let," stare him full in the face ; 
Some are good, and let dearly ; while some, 'tis well known, 
Are so dear, and so bad, they are best let alone. 

"WILL WADDLE, whose temper was studious and lonely, 
llir'd lodgings that took Single Gentlemen only ; 
But Will was so Hit he appear'd like a ton; 
Or like two Single Gentlemen roll d into One, 

lie enter'd his rooms, and to bed he retreated ; 
But, all the night long, he feltfever'd, and heated ; 
And ; though heavy to weigh, as a score of fat sheep, 
He was not, by any means heavy to sleep. 

Next night 'twas the same I— and the next :— and the next ; 
He perspir'd like an ox ; he was nervous and vex d ; 
Week past af.vr week ; till, by weekly succession, 
His weakly coudition was past all expression. 



Ill 

-In six months his acquaintance began much to doubt him; 
For his skin, " Like a Lady's loose gown," hung about him, 
He sent for a Doctor ; and cried like a ninny, 
" I have lost many pounds— make me well— theres a gui- 
nea." 

The Doctor lood'd wise;— ' : A slow fever," he said ; 
Prescrib'd sudorificks — and going to bed. 
"Sudorificks in bed,*' exclaim'd Will, "are humbugs ! 
• l I've enough of them there, without paying for drugs !' ' 

Will kicked out the Doctor ;— but, when ill indeed, 
E'en dismissing the Doctor don t always succeed ; 
So, culling his host— he said—" Sir, do you know, 
I'm the fat Single Gentleman, six months ago ? 

Look'e, landlord, I think," argued Will, -with a grin, 
That with honest intentions you first took me in ; 
Ehi from the first night— and to say it I'm bold— 
I have been so damn'd hot, that I'm sure I caught cold.'' 

Quoth the landlord—'- till now, I ne'er had a dispute ; 
E've let iodgings ten years ;— I'm a Baker to boot ; 
In airing your sheets, Sir, my wife is no sloven ; 
And your bed is immediately over my Oven." 

••The Oven!! !" says Will— says the host, "why this pas- 
sion ? 

In that excellent bed died three people of fashion. 

Why so crusty good Sir ?"— " Zounds !" cries Will in a 
taking, 

" Who wouldn't be crusty, with half a year's baking?" 

Will paid for his rooms ;— cried the host, with a sneer, 
" Well, I see you've been going away half a year," 



112 

H Friend, we can't well agree— yet no qaaprel"— Will 

said ;— 
" But I'd rather not perish, while you make your bread."* 

* This is the conclusion of all that was originally print 1 
cd under the title of " My Night-gown and Slippers." 



THE 

KNIGHT AND THE FRIAR 

PART FIRST. 

In our Fifth Harry's reign, when 'twas the fash 
To thump the French, poor creatures ! to excess ;— 

Tho' Britons, now a days, show more compassion, 
And thump them, certainly, a great deal less ; — 

In Harry's reign, when flush 'd Lancastrian Rose 
Of York's pale blossoms had usurp'd the right ;* 

As wine drives Nature out of drunkards' noses, 
Till red, triumphantly eclipses white ;— 

In Harry's reign— but let me to my song, 

Or good king Harry's reign may seem too long. 

Sir THOMAS ERPINGHAM, a gallant knight, 
When this king Harry went lo war, in France 

* Roses were not emblems of faction, cries the Criticfc, 

till the reign of Henry the Sixth. Pooh! This is ;i 

figure, not an anachronism. Suppose, Mr. Critic you and 
all your descendants should be hanged, although your fa- 
ther died in his bed ;— Why then posterity v le n talking 
of your father, may allude to the famih :>i!lo\vs, which 
his issue shall have rendered notoriously symbolical of hi<t 
House. 

J? 2 . 



m 

Girded a sword about his middle , 
Resolving, very lustily, to fight, 
And tcael) the Frenchmen how to dam 
Without a fiddle. 

4nd wond'roas bold Sir Thomas prov'd in bank, 

Performing prodigies with spear ami shield ; 
His valour, like a murrain among cattle, 
Was reekon'd very fatal in the field. 
Yet, tho' Sir Thomas had an iron fist, 
lie was, at heart, a mild Philanthropist. 

Much did he grieve, when making Frenchmen die, 

To any inconvenience to put 'em : 
•'It quite distressed his feelings,' 1 he would cry, 
" That he must cut their throats"— and then he cut 'era 

Thus, during many a campaign, 

He cut, and griev'd, and cut, and came again ;— 

Pitying, and killing ; 

Lamenting sorely for men's souls, 
While pretty little eyelet holes, 

Clean thro' their bodies he kept drilling ; 

Till palling on his laurels grown so thick. 
As boys pull blackberries, till they are sick) 

Homeward he bent his course to wreath em; 
And in his Castle, near fair Norwich town, 
Glutted with glory, he sat down, 

In perfect solitude, beneath 'tin. 

Now, sitting under Laurels, Heroes say, 

and dignity— and so it may— - 
When men hare done- cam 



Ub 

But, certainly, these gentlemen must own 
That sitting under Laurels, quite alone, 
Is much more dignified than entertaining 

Pious j^neas, who. in his narration 
Ol his own prowess, felt so great a charm;— 

(For, tho' he feign 'd great grief in the relation, 
He made the story longer than your arm.*) 

Pious iF.neas no more pleasure knew 

Than did our knight— who could be pious too 

In telling his exploits, and martial hrav. Is ; 
But Pious Thomas had no Dido near him — 
No Queen, King, Lord, or Commoner to hear hic& 

So he was fere'd to tell them to the walls ; 
And to his Castle walls, in solemn guise, 
The knight, fall often did soliloquize ; 

For " Walls have ears," Sir Thomas had been told , 
Yet thought the tedious !;ours wouhi seem much, shorfe.' 

If, now and then, a tale he could unfold 

To ears offiesh and blood, not stone and mortaiv 

* i: Qi U taliafanda 

misP' 

as, by way of proem ; yet, for a Hero, tolerably 
• king mood," he talks, on this occasion 
■ he cries; and though he begins with a. 
wooden Horse, and gives a general at -■ in* of the burning 

is, evidently. 
the great to bis chattering;— accordingly,, he 

keeps up Queen Dido to a scandalous i.'e hour, aftes 
supper, for the good iolksof Carthage, to • 
tistieal story, that occupies two whole boo' 
—Oh, these Heroes !— i once knew a wettnj G „:. 
but 1 won't tell that si 



116 

At length his old Castellum grew so dull, 
That legions of Blue Devils seiz'd the Knight :• 

Megrim invested his belaurell'd skull ; 
Spleen laid embargoes on his appetite ; 

Till, tlno' the day-time, he was haunted, wholly, 
By all the imps of " loathed Melancholy !" 

Heaven keep her, and her imps, for ever from 
And Incubus,* whene'er he went to bed, 
Sat on his stomach, like a lump of lead, 

Making unseemly faces at Sir 1 nomas. 

rlagues such as these might make a Parson swear: 

Sir Thomas being but a Layman. 
Swore, very roundly, a la mU'dairc, 

Or, rather, (from vexation) like a Drayman : 

Damning his Walls, out of all line and level j 

Sinking his drawbridges and moats ; 

Wishing that he were cutting throats 

And they were at the devil. 

w What's to be done," Sir Thomas said, one daj , 
u To drive Ennui away 

How is the evil to be panned ? 
What can remind me of my former life ?—- 

* Far be it from me to offer a pedantic affront to the 
Gentlemen who peruse me, bj explaining the word Jnca- 
tms ; which Pliny, and others, more learnedly, call E/»/m- 
altes .—I, modestly, state it to mean the Night-Mare, for 
the information of the Ladies. The chief symptom by 
Wbichgthis affliction is vulgarly known, is a heavy pres- 
sure upon the stomach, when lying in a supine posture in 
bed. It would terrify some of my fair readers who never 
experienced this characteristick of the Incubus were I to 
dwell on its effects ; and it would irritate others, who are- 
Ml the habit ot'labguaiJg under its sensations. 



117 

Those happy days I spent in noise and strife !" 

The last words struck him " Zounds!" says he-*-- 

" a Wife !" 

And so he married. 

Muse ! regulate your pace ;■— 
Restrain, awhile, your frisking and your giggling .' 

Here is a stately Lady in the case ; 

We mustn't, now, be fidgeting, and niggling. 

O God of Love ! Urchin of spite and play ! 

Deserter, oft. from saffron Hymen's quarters ; 
His torch bedimming,as thou runn'st away, 

Till half bis Votaries become his martyrs ! 

Sly, wandering God ! whose frollic arrows pass 
Thro' hearts of Potentates, and Prentice boys ; 

Who mark'st, with Milkmaids' forms, the tell-tale grass. 
And mak'st the fruitful Prude repent her joys ! 

Drop me one feather from thy wanton wing, 

God of Dimples I in thy roguish flight ; 
\nd let thy Poet catch it, now, 10 sing 
The Beauty of the Dame who won the Knight 

Her beauty,— but Sir Thomas's own Sonnet 
Beats all that I can say upon it. 



118 

SIR THOMAS ERPINGHAM »s* 
SONNET 

ON HIS LADY, 



r. 

Such star like lustre lights her Eyes, 
1 hey must have darted from a Sphere, 

Our duller System to surprise, 
Outshining all the Planets here ; 

* An old Gentlewoman, a great admirer of the Black 
Letter, (as manj old gentlewomen are) presented the Au- 
thor or" these Tales with the Original MS of this Sonnet ; 
advising the publication of a foe-simile of the Knight's 
hand-writing. It is painful, after this, to advance, that 
the Sonnet, so far from being genuine, is one of the clum- 
siest litterary forgeries, that the present times have wit- 
nessed. It appears, in this authentic Story, that Sir Tho- 
mas Erpingham was married in the reign o: Henry the 
Fifth; and it is evidently intended; that Moderns should 
believe he writ these love-verses dmo'.i immediately after 
his marriage — not only from the ardour with which he 
celebrates the beauty of his Wife, but from the circum- 
stance of a man writing any love-verses upon hi 
all; — but the style and language ol the lines are most 
glaringly inconsistent with their pretended date. The 
feet is, we have here foisted upon us a close imitation of 
COWLEY, (vide the Mistress) who was not bom till the 

year 1618 two centuries after the a?ra in qi 

Chaucer died A. D. 1400; and Henry the Fifth (who was 
king only 9 years. 5 mouths and 11 days) began I 
scarcely 13 years after the death of that Poet. S 
mas, then, must, at least, have written in the obsolete 
phraseology of Chaucer — and, probably, would have- imita- 
ted him -as did Lidgate. Oc'deve, and others ;— nay, 

Harding. SUelton. kc. who w< re fifty or sixty years subse- 
quent to Chauc. r. were hat so modern in their language 
as their celebrated predeee-ssor. Having, in fe-. 



119 

And, having wandev'd from their wonted place. 
Fix in the wond'rous Heaven of her Face. 

II. 

The modest Rose, whose blushes speak 

The ardent kisses of the Sun, 
Off'ring a tribute to her Cheek, 
Droops, to perceive its Tint outdone ; 
Then withering- with envy and despair, 
Dies on her Lips, and leaves its Fragrance there. 

III. 

Ringlets that to her Breast descend, 

Increase the beauties they invade ; 

Thus branches in luxuriance bend, 

To grace the lovely bills they shade.; 

And, thus, the glowing Climate did intice 

Tendrils to curl, unprun'd, o'er Paradise, 



Sir Thomas having closed his love-sick strain, 
Come, buxom Muse ! and let us frisk again ! 

proved (it is presumed' this Sonnet to be spurious, an 
apology may be thought necessary for not saying a great 
deal more ;— but this Herculean task-is left, in deference, 
to the disputants on Vortigerh ; Who will, doubtless, en- 
gage in it, as a matter ot % great importance, and, once 
more lay the workl under very heavy obligations, with 
various Pamphlets in Folio, upon the subject ;— and s*ir. ly, 
too many acknowledgments cannot be given to men who 
are so indefatigably generous in their researches, that halt 
the result of them, when published, causes even the sym- 
pathetick reader to labour as much as the Writer ! 

How ungratefully did Pope say ! 

; ' There, dim in clouds, the poring Scholiasts mark, 

"Wits. who. lik- owls, see only in th dark ; 

A lumber-house of books in every head ; 

For ever reading, never to be read !" Duneidd. 



120 

Close to a Chapel, near the Castle gates, 
Dwelt certain stickers in the Devil's skirts ; 

Who, with prodigious fervour shave their pates. 
And show a most religious scorn for shirts. 

Their House's sole Endowment was our Knight's ;— 
Thither an Abbot, and twelve Friars retreating, 

Conquer'd (sage, pious men !) tht ir appetites 
With that infallible specific eating. 

'Twould seem, since tenanted by holy Friars, 
That Peace and Harmony reign'd here eternally ; 

Whoever told you so, were cursed liars ;— 
The holy Friars quarrell'd most infernally. 

Not a day past 
Without some schism among these heavenly lodgers . 

But none of their dissentions seem'd to last 
So long as Friar John's and Friar Roger's. 

I have been very, accurate in my researches, 
And find this Convent (truce with whys and hows 
Kept in a constant ferment with the rows 

Of these two quarrelsome fat sons of Churches. 

But when Sir Tliomas went to his devotions, 
Proceeding thro' their Cloister with his Bride. 

You never could havedream'd of their commotions 
The stiff-rump'd rascals look'd so sanctified : 

And it became the custom of the Knight 

To go to matlins every day ; 

He jogg'd his Bride, as soon as it was light, 

Crying, " my dear, 'tis time for us to pray."— 



121 

This custom he establish 'd, very see© 
After his Honey-Moon. 

Wives of this age might think his zeal surprising-, 

But much his pious Lady did it please, 
To see her Husband, every morning, rising", 

And going, instantly, upon his knees. 

Never, I ween, 
In any person's recollection, 

Was such a couple seen, 
For genuflection ! 

Making as great a drudgery of prayer 
As humble Curates are obliged to do-— - 
Whose labour, woe the while ! scarce buys them cass«cks , 
And, every morning, whether foul or fair, 
Sir Thomas and the Dame were in their pew, 
Craw-thumping, upon hassocks. 

It could not otherwise befall 
(Sir Thomas, and his Wife, this course pursuing) 
But that the Lady, affable to all, 
Should greet the Friars, on her way 
To matins, as she met them, every day, 
Good morning and how d'ye doing : 

Now nodding to this Friar, now to that, 
As thro' the Cloister she was wont to trip : 
Stopping, sometimes, to have a little chat, 
On casual topicks, with the holy brothers ;■»- 
So condescending was her Ladyship, 
To Roger, John, and all the others'. 



m 

All tliiii was natural enough 
To any female of Urbanity ;— 

But holy men are made of as frail stun' 
As all the lighter sons of Vanity ! 

And these her Ladyship's chaste condescensions, 
In Friar John bred damnable desire ; 

Heterodox, unclean intentions ;— — 
Abominable in a Friar ! 

"Whene'er she greeted him, his gills grew red, 
While she was quite unconscious of the matter ;— 
But he, the beast ! was casting shecps'-eyes at her. 

Out of his bullock head. 

That coxcombs were and are, I need not give. 

Nor take the trouble, now, to prove ; 
Nor that those de:.d, like many, now, who live. 

Have thought a Lady's condescension, love 

This happen'd with fat Friar John ; 

Monastic coxcomb! amourous and gummy. 
Fill'd with conceit up to his very brim ! 
He thought his guts and garbage doated on 
By a fair Dame, whose Husband was to him 
Hyperion to a mommy. 

Burning with flames the Lady never knew, 
Hotter and heavier than toasted f 

He sent her a much warmer billet-doux 
Than Abelard e'er writ to Elo'ise. 

But whether Friar John's fat shape and face.- 
Tho' pleading both together. 



1&> 

Were sorry advocates, in such a case ;— •— 

Oi, whetheu 
He ma r'd his hopes, by suffering his pen 

With too much fervour to display 'em ;— - 
As very tender nurses, now and men. 

Cuddle their Children, till they overlay 'em;~ 

Twas plain, his pray'r to decorate the brows 
Of good Sir Thomas, was so far from granted. 

That the Dame went, directly, to her spouse, 
And told him what the filthy Friar wanted. 

Think, Reader ! think! if thou hart ta'en, for life, 
A partner to thy bed, for worse or better, 

Think what Sir Thomas felt, when his chaste wife 
Brandished, before his eyes, the Friar's letter 1 

He felt, Sir, Zounds ! 

Yes, Zounds I say, Sir for it makes me swear- 
More torture than he suffer'd from the wounds 

He got among the French, in France; • 

Not that I take upon me to advance 
rheka r wounded there. 

Think gravely, Sir, I pray ;— fancy the knight 

('Tis quite a Picture)— with his heart s delight I 
Fancy you see his virtuous Lady stand, 
Holding the Friar's foulness in her hand !— — 

How should Sir Thomas, Sir, behave ? 
Why bounce, and sputter, surely, like a squib :— 

You would have done the same, Sir, if a knai 
A frowzy Friar, meddled with your Rib. 

His bosom almost burst with Ire 
Against the Friar ! 



124 

• 

_-g« gave his fhce an apoplectic hue ; 
His cheek? turn'd purple, and his nose turn'd blue , 

He swore with this mock Saint he'd soon be even; 
He'd have him slay'd, like Saint Bartholomew ;— 

And, now again, he'd have him stoned,like Stephen-. 

But, "Irctfuror brevit est" 

As Horace, quaintly, has express'd ; 

Therefore the knight, finding his foam and froth 
Work thro' the bung-hole of his mouth like beer, 

Pull'd out the vent-peg o' his wrath, 

To let the stream of his revenge run clear : 

Debating, with himself, what mode might suit h'na, 
To trounce the rogue who wanted tocornute him. 

First, an attack against his Foe he plann'd, 
Learn 'd in the Field, where late he fought so felly ; 

That is— to march up, bravely, sword in hand, 
And run the Friar through bis holy belly. 

At last, his better judgment did declare 

Seeing his honour would as little shine 
By sticking Friars as by killing swine 

To circumvent him by a ruse de guerre : 

And, as the project ripen'd in his head, 
Thus to his virtuous Wife he said :— 

Now sit thee down, my Lady bright ! 

And list thy Lord's desire ; 
An assignation thou shalt write, 

Beshrew me ! to the Friar. 



125 

Aread him, at the midnight lioui, 

In silent sort to go, 
And bide thy coming, in the Bower— 

For there do Crabsticks grow. 

He shall not tarry long ;— for why ? 

When Twelve have striking done, 
Then, hy the God of Gardens !* I 

Will cudgel him till One." 

The Lady wrote just what Sir Thomas told her j 

For it is no less strange than true, 

That Wives did, onee, what Husbands bid them do; 
Lord ! how this World improves, as we grow older ! 

She nam'd the midnight hour ;— 
Telling the Friar to repair 



* If the Knight knew the aptness in its full extent, of 
Li, oath, upon this occasion, we must give him more cre- 
dit for hi* reading than we are willing co allow to military 

men of the age in which he flourished ; for observe- he 

vows to cudgel a map lurking <o rob his Lady of her Vir- 
tue, in a bower;— how appropriately, therefore, does ha 
swear by the God of the Gardens i who is represented 
with a kind of cudgel (fidx li^nca) in his right hand; 
and is, moreover, furnished with another weapon of for- 
midable dimensions, (Horace calls it Palus) for the express 
purpose of annoying Robbers. 

" Fures dextra coereet, 
" Obscamoque rubor porrectt^s db ingufne PALUS." 

It must be confessed that the last mentioned attribute 
of this Deity was stretched forth to promote pleasure, in 

some instances, instead of fear; for it whs a sportive 

custom, in the hilarity of recent marriages, to seat the 

Bride upon his Palus ; but this circumstance by no 

means disproves its efficacy as a dread to Robbers; on 
the contrary, that implement must have been peculiarly 
terrifiek, which could sustain the weight of so many 
Brides, without detriment to its firmness, or elasticity. 



136 

i" o the sweet, secret Bower ;— 
But not a word of any Crabsticks there. 

Thus have I seen a liquorish, black rat, 
Lured by the Cook, to sniff, and smell her bacon ; 

And. when he's eager for a bit of fatj 
Down goes a trap upon him, and he's taken. 

A tiny Page— for, formerly, a boy 
Was a mere dunce who did not understand 

The doctrines of Sir Pandarus, of Troy 

Slipp'd the Dame's note into the Friar's hand, 
Ashe was walking in the cloister ; 
And, then, slippM off— as silent as an oyster. 

The Friar read ; the Friar chuckled ; 

For, now the Farce's unities were right .* 

Videlicet The Argument, a Cuckold ; 

The Scene, a Bow'r ; Time, twelve o'clock at night 

Blithe was fat John !— anil dreading no mishap, 

Stole, at the hour appointed, to the trap ;. 
But, so perfum'd, so musk'd, for the occasion— 
His tribute to the nose so like invasion 

You would have sworn, to smell him, 'twas no rat* 

But a dead, putrificd, old en it-cat. 

He reach'd the spot, anticipating blisses, 
Soft murmurs, melting sighs, and burning kisses, 
Trances of joy, and mingling of the souls ; 
When, v\hack! Sir Thomas hit him on the jowls. 

Now, on his head it came, now on his face, 

i His neck and shoulders, arras, legs, breast and back ; 



127 

In short, on almost every place ^ 
We read of in the Almanack. 

Blows rattled on him thick as hail ; 

Making him rue the day that he was born ;— 
Sir 1 homas plied his cudgel like a flail, 

And thrash 'd as if he had been thrashing com/ 

At length, a thump— (painful the facts, ala9 ! 
Truth urges us Historians to relate J)— 
Took Friar John so smart athwart the pate, 

It acted like a perfect coup de grace. 

Whether it was a random shot, 

Or aim'd maliciously— tho' Fame says not— - 
Certain his soul 'the knight so erack'd his crown) 

Fled from his body ; but which way it went, 
Or whether Friars' souls fly up or down, 

Remains a matter of nice argument. 

Points so abstruse I dare not dwell upon ; 
Enough, for nic, his body is not gone ; 

For I have business, still, in my narration, 
With the fat carcase of this holy porpus ; 

And Death, tho' sharp in his administration. 
Never suspended such an Habeas Cor/' 



END OF TART 7. 



the 
KNIGHT AND THE FRIAR 

PART SECOND. 

HEADER ! if you have Genius, you'll discover, 

Do what you will to keep it cool, 
It, now and then, in spite of you, boils over.. 
Upon a fool , 

IIaven't*you (lucky man if not) been vex'd, 

Worn, fretted, and porplex'ii, 

By a pert, busy, would-be-clever knave, 
A forward, empty, self-sufficient slave ? 

Anil haven't you, all christian patience gone, 
At last, put down the puppy, with your wit ; 
On whom it seem'd, tho' you had Mines of it. 

Extravagance to spend a jest upon ? 

And haven't you, (I'm sure you have, my friend !) 

And when you have laid the puppy low 

AH little pique and malice at an end, 

Been sorry for the blow ? 

And said, (if witty, so would say your Bard) 
' D.imn it ! I hit that meddling fool too hard ?" 



129 

Thus did the brave Sir Thomas saj , 
Whose Genius didn't much disturb his pat« 

It rather, in his bones and muscles lay 

Like many other men's of good estate. 

Thus did Sir Thomas say ; and well he mighlj 

When pity to resentment did succeed ; 
For certainly, (tho' not with wit) the Knight 
Had hit the Friar very hard indeed ! 
And heads, nineteen in twenty, 'tis confess 
Can feel a crabstick sooner than a jest. 

There was, in the Knight's family, a man 
Cast in the roughest mould Dame Nature boasts J 

With shoulders wider than a dripping-pan, 
And legs as thick, about the calves as posts. 

AH the domesticks, viewing, in this hulk, 
So large a specimen of Nature's whims, 

With kitchen wit, allusive to his bulk, 
Had christen'd him the Duke of Limbs. 

Thro'out the Castle, every whipper-snapper 
Was canvassing the merits of this strapper^ 
Most of the Men voted his size alarming; 
But all the Maids, rxm. con. declared it charming J 

This wight possess'd a quality most rare j 

I tremble when I mention it, I swear! 

Lest pretty Ladies question my veracity : 
'Twas— when he had a secret in his care, 

To keep it with the greatest pertinacity. 

Pour but a secret in him and 'twould glue him 
Like rosin, on a well-cork'd bottle's s»ou' 
G 



130 

Had twenty devils come with cork-screws to him, 
They never could have screw'd the secret out. 

Now, when Sir Thomas, in the dark, alone, 
Had kill'd a Friar, weighing twenty stone, 

Whose carcase must be hid before the dawn. 
Judging he might as hopelessly desire 
Jo move a convent as the Friar, 

He thought on this man's secrecy and brawn ;— 
And, like a swallow, o'er the lawn he skims, 
Up to the Cock-loft of the Duke of Limbs: 

"Where Somnus, son of Nox, the humble copy 
Of his own daughter Mors* had made assault 

On the Duke's eye-lids— not with juice of poppy, 
But potent draughts, disthTd from hops and ma?t. 

Certainly, nothing operates much quicker 
Against two persons' secret dialogues, 

Than one of them being asleep, in liquor, 
Snoring like twenty thousand hogs. 

Yet, circumstance did, pressingly require 

The Knight to tell his tale ; 

And to instruct his Man, knock'd down with ale. 
That he (Sir Thomas) had knock'd down a Friar. 



* There is a terrible jumble, in Somrias's family. He 
was the son of Nox, by Erebus; and ErebuS, according (o 
different accounts, was not Only Nox's husband, but her 
brother— and even her son, by Chaos ;— and Mors was 
daughter of Somnus, by that devil of a Goddess. Nox. the 

moihorof his father and himself! The heathen Deities 

belli our canonical notions in utter contempt; and must 
bave laughed at the iuVa (which, surely, nobody does now) 
*»f forbidding a man To many his Grand mother. 



131 

Haw wake a man, in such a ease ? 
Sir the best method I have tried a sea***- 

Is, when his nose is playing thoro' bass, 
To pull it, till you make him roar. 

A Sleeper's nose is made on the same plan 
As the small wire 'twixt a doll's wooden thighs , 

Tor pull the nose, or wire, the Doll, or Man, 
Will open, in a minute, both their eyes. 

This mode Sir Thomas took and. in a trice, 

Grasp'd, with his thumb and finger, like a vice, 
That feature which the human face embosses, 
And pull'd the Duke of Limbs by the proboscis'. 

The man awoke, and goggled on his master 7— 
He saw his master goggled upon him ; 
Fresh from concluding on a Friar's nob, 
What Coroners would call an awkward job, 
He glar'd, all horror-struck and grim— • 
Faler than Paris-plaister ! 

His hair stuck up, like bristles on a pig ; 

So Garrick look'd, when he perform'd Macbeth , 
Who, ere he enter'd, after Duncan's death, 

Rumpled his wig. 

The Knight cried, " Follow me !" with strange grimaces { 

The man arose 

Ajid began '' sacrificing to the Graces,"* 

By putting on his cloaths ; 

* Vide Lord Chesterfield's Letters. This noble An- 

thor, by the bye, has set his dignified face against risibiK 



132 

3ut he reversed ; n making himself smart, 

A Scotchman's toilet, altogether: 
Ami merely clapp'd a cover on that part 

The Highlanders expose to wind and weather 

They reached the bower where the Friar lay ; 

When, to his Maa, 

The Knight began, 
In doleful accents, thus to say : 

" Here a f*at Friar lyes, kill'd with a mauling, 
For coming, in the dark, a catterwauling; 

Whom I (O cursed spite !) did lay so !" 
Thus, solemnly. Sir Thomas spake, and sigh'd ; — ~ 
To whom the Duke of Limbs replied 

" Odrabbit it .' Sir Thomas ! you don't say so !" 

Then, taking the huge Friar per the hocks, 
He whiri'd the ton of blubber three times round, 
And swung it on bis shoulders, from the ground, 
With strength that yields, in any age, to no man's', 
Tho' Milo s ghost should rise, bearing the Ox 
He carried at the games of the old Romans. 

Nay, I opine let Fame say what it can 

Of ancient vigour (Fame is, oft, a Liar) 

That Milo was a pigmy to this Man, 

And his fat Ox quite skinny to the Friars 

Besides — I hold it much in doubt 

If Roman graziers (should the truth come out) 



tr. It would be well for us poor devils, who call our- 
selves Comick Writers, if our e-lbm were always as suc- 
cefsful ia raising a laugh, as his Lordship's ceusure up- 
cuit. 



133 

Were, like the English, knowing in the matter ;— — 

—I wouldn't breed my beast more Romano ;— 
For, I suspect, in fatt'ning they were dull, 
And when they made an Ox out of a bull, 
They fed him ill— and, then, he got no fatteS 
Than a fat opera Soprana.* 

Over the moat, (the drawbridge being down) 

Gallantly stalk'd the brawny Duke of Limbs, 
Bearing Johannes, of the shaven crown, 
Fam'd, when alive, for spoiling maids, and hymri;;; 
For mangling Pater-Nosters, and goose-pies, 
And telling sundry beads — and sundry lie?. 

Across a marsh he strode, with steadier gait 
Than Satan trod the Syrtis, at his fall, 

And perch'd himself, with his monastic weight, 
Upon the Convent-garden's wall ; 

Whence, on the grounds within it, as he gazed, 
To find a spot where he might leave his load, 
He 'spied a House so little, it seem'd rais'd 

More for Man's visits than his fix'd abode ;— — 
And Cynthia aided him to gaze his fill, 
For, now, she sought Endymion, on the hill. 

Arise, Tarquinius !t show thy lofty face ! 
While I describe, with dignity, the place. 



* I am aware that much has been said, of old, relative 
to the li euro bonum, n and the " optuma torvce forma bo- 
vis ,**' but. for a show of cattle, I would back S'mithfieJd, 
or most of our English market Towns, against any fcrum 
bwrium of the Romans 

t Tarquinius Superbus, the last King of Rome ; he 

was a haughty Monarch, and built the Cloaca maxima. 



134- 

Snug, in an English garden's shadiest spot, 
A structure stands, and welcomes many a breeze j 

Lonely, and simple as a ploughman's cot, 
Where Monarchs may unbend, who wish for ease. 

There sit Philosophers ; and sitting read ; 

And to some end apply the dullest pages ; 
And pity the Barbarians, north of Tweed, 

Who scout these fabricks of the southern Sages. 

Sure, for an Ediface in estimation, 

Never was any less presuming seen ! 
It shrinks, so modestly, from observation ! 
And hides behind all sorts of evergreen ; 
Like a coy Maid, design'd for filthy Man e 
Peeping, at his approach, behind her fan. 

Into this place, unnoticed by beholders, 

The Duke of Limbs, most circumspectly stole 1 , 

And shot the Friar off his shoulders, 
Just like a sack of round Newcastle coal: 

Not taking any pains, 

Nor caring in the least, 
How he deposited the Friar's remains, 

No more than if a Friar were a beast. 

No funeral, of which you ever heard, 

Was mark d with ceremonies half so slight ; 

For John was left, not like the dead ihterr'd, 
But like the living, sitting bolt upright ! 

Has no shrewd Reader, of one sex or t'other, 
Recurring to the facts already stated, 

Thought on a certain Roger .'—that same brother 
Who hated John, and whom John h&tvl 



135 

' Tis, now, a necessary thing to say 

That, at this juncture, Roger wasn't well; 
Poor man, he hud been rubbing all the day, 
His stomach with coarse towels ; 
And clapping trenchers, hot as hell, 
Upon his bowels ; 
Where spasms were kicking up a furious frolick, 
Afflicting him with mulligrubs and cholick. 

He also had imbibed, to sooth his pains, 

Of pulvis rhei very many grains; 
And to the garden's deepest shade was bent, 
To give, quite privily, his sorrows vent : 

When, there— alive and merry to appearance- 
He 'spied his ancient foe, by the Moon's light !— 

Who sat erect, with so much perseverance, 
It look'd as if he kept his post in spite. 

A case it is of piteous distress 

If, carrying a secret grief about, 
We wish to bury it in a recess, 

And find another there, who keeps us out. 

Expecting, soon, his enemy to go, 
Roger, at first, walk'd to and fro, 

With tollerably tranquil paces; 
But finding John determined to remain, 
Roger, each time he passed, thro' spite or pain-, 

Made, at his adversary, hidious faces. 

How misery will lower human pride ! 

And make us buckle ! 

Roger, who, all h;s life, had John defied, 

Was nvtf obliged to speak him lair—and trickle* 



136 

1 Behold mc," Roger cried, " behold me, John I 
Intreating as a favour you'll be gone; 

Me ! your sworn foe, though fellow-lodger; 
!Me !— who, in agony, tho' suing now to you, 
Would, once, have seen you dainn'd ere make a bow to 
you, 

Me Roger!"* 

To this address, so fraught with the pathetick, 
John remain'd dumb, as a Pythagorean ; 
Seeming to hint, " Roger, you're a plebian 

Peripatetick." 

When such choice oratory has not hit, 
When it is, e en, unanswer'd by a grunt, 

'Twould justify tame Job to curse a bit, 
And set an Angler swearing, in his punt. 

Choleric Roger could not brook it ;—— 

So seeing a huge brick-bat, up he took it; 
And aiming, like a marksman at a crow, 
Plump on the breast he hit his deadly foe ; 

Who fell, like Pedants' periods, to the ground— 

Very inanimate, and very round. 

Here is another Picture ! reader mine J— — 

I gave you one in the first canto ;f— 
This is more solemn, mystical, and fine— — » 

Like something in the Castle of Otranto. 

y This is a palpable plagiarism. Rolla thus addresses 

Tizarro; "• Behold me, at thy feet— Me— Rolla !— Me, 

that never yet have bent or bow'd— in humble agony I 

sue to you.' The theft is more glaring, as the Apos- 

trophe, both here, and in the original, occurs in the 
Baiast of a strong incident, and is addressed to an enemy 
|>y a proud mint, ii- very moving circumstances. 

f ride Pajrt 1st, page 123, Haw 21-24. 



137 

Bring, bring- me, now, a Painter for the 
Who on the subject will, with furor rush I 

Some Artist who can sup upon raw pork, 
To make him dream of horrors, for his brush ' 

Come, Limners, come ! who choak your houses entry 
With dear unmeaning lumber, from your easles ; 

Bull heads of the Nobility and Gentry; 
Full length of fubscy Belles, or Beaux like wo 

Come, Limners, hither come ! and draw 
A finer incident than e'er ye saw ! 

Here is a John, by moon-light (a fat monk) 
Lying stone dead ; and, here, a Roger, quick 

And over John stands Roger, in a funk, 
Supposinghe has kill'd him with a bri 

There, Painters ! there ! 

Now, by Apellevs gamboge, I sv 
Such a dead subject never comes, 

Among those lifeless living ye disp 
Then, thro' your pallettes thrust your graphick thuml 

And work away ! 

Seeing John dead as a door nail, 
Roger began to wring his hands, anrT - 

Calling himself Beast, But< 
Thrice " Bencdicite .'" heniuUer'd; 
Thrice in the eloquence of grief h 

" I've done a pretty job of journey- v. 

Some people will show symptoms of repentance 
When Conscience, ' 

s , •» 



138 

i?ome from mere dread of the Law's sentence. 
When Newgate, like the very Devil, frights 'em :t 
That Virtue's struggles in the heart denotes, 
This Vice's hints, to men's left cars and throat* 

Now Roger's conscience, it appears, 
Was not by half so lively as his fears. 

His breast, soon after he was born, 

Grew like an Hostler's lanthorn at an Inn;—— 
All the circumference was dirty horn, 

And feebly blink'd the ray of warmth within. 

In short, for one of his religious function, 

His Conscience was both cowardly and callous; 
No melting Cherub whisperM to't ' Compunction !' 
But grim Jack Ketch disturb'd it, crying 'Gallows!' 
And all his sorrow, for this deed abhorr'd, 
Was nothing but antipathy to cord. 

A padlock'd door stood in the garden-wall. 

Where John, by Roger's brick-bat, chanced to fall, 

And Roger had a key that could undo it ; 
Thro' this fame door, at any time of day, 
They brought into the Convt-nt, com and hay ; 

Sometimes, at dusk, a pretty girl came thro' it : 
Just to confess herself, to some grave codger ; 
Perhaps, she came to John,— perhaps to Roger. 

Out at this portal Roger made a shift, 

To lug his worst of foes ; 
For. seizing (as the gout was wont) his toes, 

He dragg'd the load he couldn't lift. 



139 

Achilles, thus, drew round the Trojan plaij>,, 
The ten years' Adversary lie had slain.— 
Yet,— for I scorn a Grecian to disparage,— - 

Achilles in more style, and splendour, ilid it ; 
He sported Murder strapp'd behind his carriage,— 

Eut bourgeois Roger sneak'd on foot, and hid li, 

Rodger, however, labour'd on,— 
Puffing, and tugging ;— 
And hauling John, 
As fishermen on shore, haul up a boat;— ■ 

'Till after a great deal of lugging, 
He lugg'd him to the edge of the Knight's moat,- 
And stuck him up so straight upon his rear 

Touching, almost, the water, with his heels, 

That the defunct might pass, not seen too near, 

For some fat gentleman who bobb'd for eels- 

Swiftly did Roger, then, retrace his ground, 
Lighter than he came out, by many a pound- 
So have I seen, on Marlb'rough downs, a hack, 
Eased of a great man's chaise, and coming back, 

From Bladud's springs, upon the western road», 
No bloated Noble's luggage at his rump, 
'Whose doom's, that dread of pick-pockets the pump, 

He canters home, from Bath, without his load- 
Sir Thomas being scrupulous, and queasy > 
Couldn't, in ail ibis interval, be easy. 

He went f bed ;— and, there, began to bum j 

Nine times he turn'd, in wond'rous perturbation>~ 

He woke her Ladyship, at every turn,— 
And gays her, full pine times, complete yejutf&fc, 



140 

To seek the Duke of Limbs, at length, he rose, 
Andprowl'd with him, lamenting Fortunes stripe; 

Now in the rookery, among the crows, 
Now squashing in the marsh, among the snipes : 

Wishing strange wishes ;— among many, 

lie wish'd,— ere lie had clapp'd his eyes on any, 

All Priests, and Crabstieks, thrown into the fire ; 
Or, seeing Providence ordain 'd it so, 
That Priest, and Crabstick, (to his grief) must grotv, 

He wish'd stout Crabstick couldn't kill fat Friar. 

Men's wishes will be partial, now and then ;— 

As, in this case, 'tis plainly seen ; 

Wherein, Sir Thomas, full of spleen, 
Wish'd to burn all the Crabs and Clergymen. 

Think ye that he,— at wisbing tho' a dab, 

To wish such harm to any Knight would urge ye ? 

Yet he, a Knight, had taken up a Crab, 
And thump 'd to death with it, one of the Clergy. 

As he went wishing on, 
With the great Duke of Limbs behind him,— 

Horror on horror !— he saw John, 
Where least of all he ever thought to find him l 

Stuck up, an end, in placid grace, 
Like a stuft'd Kangaroo,— tho' vastly fatter,—— 

With the full moon upon his chubby face, 
Like a brass pot-lid, shining on a platter. 

tSMeath !' quoth the Knight, of half his powers bereft,. 
* ; I>id*t thou not tell me wke 



i41 

' Men rise again, to push us from our stools 1*' 
To which the Duke replied, with steady phiz,— 
' Them us took pains to push that Friar from his, 
4 At such a time o'night, was cursed fools.' 

*Ah!' sigh'd Sir Thomas, while I wander here, 
« By Fortune stamp'd a Homicide, alas !' 

(And, as he spoke, a penitential tear 
Mingled with Heaven's dew-drops, on the grass ;) 

' Will iio one from my eyes yon Spectre pull ?' 

' Sir Thomas', said the Duke of Limbs, ' I wool, 

He would have thrown the garbage in the moat, 
But the Knight told him, fat was prone to float. 

The Lout, at length, having bethought him, 
Heaved up the Friar oa his buck once more ; 
And (Castles having armories, of yore) 

Into the Knight's old Armory he brought him. 

Among the gorgeous, shining Coats of Mail, 
That graced the walls, on high, in gallant show,— 

As pewter pots, in houses fam'd tor ale, 
Glitter, above the Bar-maid, in a row.— 

A curious, antique suit was hoarded, 

Cover'd with dust ; 
Which had, for many years afforded 

An iron dinner to that ostrich, Rust. 

Though this was all too little,— in a minute, 

The Duke of Limbs ram d the fat Friar in it ;— ~ 

So a good. Housewife takes a narrow skin, 

To make black puddings, and stuff hog's meat in. 

* Shakespear, certainly, borrowed this expression froi* 
Stf Thomas.— See Macbeth. 



142 

The Knight, who saw this ceremony pass, 
Inquir'd the meaning; when the Duke did saj 

' I'll tie liim on ould Dumpling, that's at grass, 
' And turn him out, a top of the highway.' 

This Steed,— who, now, it seems : was grazing—— 
In the French wars, had often borne the Knight*- 

Mis symmetry be) r ond the power of praising, 
And prouder than Bucephalus in sight ! 

Once, how he paw'd the ground, and snufTd the garel 
Uncropp'd his ears, undock'd his flowing tail ; 

No blemish was within him, nor without him 
Perfect he was in every part ; 
No barbaiious Farrier, with infernal art, 

Had mutilated the least bit about him. 

Of high Arabian pedigree, 
Father of many four-foot babes was he ; 

And sweet, hoof'd Beauties, still, would he be rumpling.; 
But counting five and twenty, from his birth, 
At grass for life, unwieldly in the girth, 

He had obtain'd, alas ! the name of Dumpling. 

>Jow, at the postern, stood the gay old Charger r 

Saddled, and boused, — in full caparison ! 
Now on his back, — no rider larger,-— 

Upright, and stiff, and tied with cords, sat John ; 
Ann d cap-a-pie, completely, like a Knight, 
Going to fight. 

A Lance was in the rest, of stately beech 
Nothing was wanting, but a Page, or 'Squire ;— — 

The Duke, with thistles, switch'd old Dumpling's breetfe 
And off he dauei'd, with the juartial Friar. 



143 

Now, in the convent let us take a peep,-" 
Where Roger, like Sir Thomas, couldn t sleep : 

Instead of singing requiems, and psalms, 

For fat John's soul, he had been seized with qualm; 

Thinking it would be rash to tarry there : 

And, having, prudently, resolved on flight, 
Knoek'd up a neighb'ring Miller in the night, 

And borrowed his grey Mare. 

Thus, trotting oft',— beneath a row of trees, 
He saw a sight that made his marrow freeze ! 
A furious Warrior follow 'd him, in mail, 
Upon a Charger, close at his Mare's tail ! 

He cross 'd himself! and, canting, cried, 

Oh, sadly have I Binned ! 

Then stuck his heels in his Mare's sides ;—— 

And. then, old Dumpling whinny'd ! 

Roger whipp d, and Roger spurr'd, 

Distilling drops of fear ! 
But while he spurv'd, still, still he heard, 

The wanton Dumpling at his rear. 

'Twas dawn ; he iook'd behind him in the chacc; 

When, lo ! the features of fat John, 

His beaver up, and pressing on. 

Glared, ghastly, in the wretched Roger's face I 

The Miller's mare., who oft had gone the way, 
Scamper 'd with Roger, into Norwich Town ; 

And, there, to all the market-folks' dismay, 
•Old Dumpling beat the mare, with Roger, down 



Brief let me be :— — the Story soon took ah- ;-w- 
For Townsmen are inquisitive, of course, 

When a live Monk rides in upon a Mare, 
Chased by a dead one, arm'd upon a Horsf 

Sir Thomas up to London sped, full fast, 
To beg his life, and lands, of Royal Harry ; 

And, for his services, in Gallia, past. 
His suit did not miscarry :— — 

For, in those days,— thank Heaven they are mended !■ 

Kings hang'd poor Rogues, while rich one were befrk 
ed. 



TE Criticks, and yc Ilyper-Criticks !— wh» 
Have deign 'd (in reading this my story thro'.* 

A patient, or impatient, ear to lend me,— 
If, as I humbly amble, ye complain 
I give my Pegasus too looses rein, 

'Tis time to call my Betters, to defend me. 

Come, Swift ! who made so merry with the Nine ; 
With thy far bolder Muse, Oh ! shelter mine ! 

When she is styled a slattern and a trollop ;— 
Force stubborn Gravity to doff his gloom ; 
Point to thy C««lia. and thy dressing-Room, 

Thy Nymph at bed-time, and thy famed Maw-Wallop 

Come Sterne !— whose prose, with all a Poet's art, 
Tickles the fancy, while it melts the heart; 

Since at apologies I ne'er was handy,-? 
Come, while fastidious Readers run me hardj 
And screen, sly playful wag i a hapless Ban'., 

Behind one volume of thv Tristriam Shandy ' 



145 

?e Two, alone !— tho' I could bring a score 
Of brilliant names and high examples, more- 
Plead for me, when 'tis said I misbehave me ! 
And, Ye, sour Censors ! in your crabbed fits, 
Who will not let them rescue me as Witts, 
Prithee, as Parsons, suffer 'em to save rae! 



THE 



ELDER BROTHER. 



Centrick, in London noise, and London follies, 
Proud Covent Garden blooms, in smoky glory ; 

For chairmen, coffee-rooms, piazzas, dollies, 
Cabbages, and comedians, famed in story ! 

On this gay spot, (upon a sober plan,) 
Dwelt a right regular, and staid, young man ;— 
Much did he early hours, and quiettlove ; 
And was entitled Mr. Isaac Shove. 

An Orphan he ;— yet rich in expectations, 
(Which nobody seem"d likely to supplant) 

From, that prodigious bore, of all relations, 
A fusty, canting, stiff-rump'd Maiden Aunt : 

The wealthy Miss Lucretia Cloghorty, 

Who had brought Isaac up, and own'd to forty. 

Shovo on this maiden's Will relied securely; 

Who vow'd she ne'er would wed, to mar his riches 
Full often would she say, of Men, demurely, — - 

' I can't abide the filthy things iu breeches !' 



147 

He had apartments up two pair of stairs ; 

On the first floor lodged Doctor Crow ;— — » 
The landlord was a torturer of hairs, 

And made a grand display of wigs, below ; 
From the beau's Brutus, to the parson's grizzle :~ 
Over the door-way was his name ;— ' twas Twizzlc . 

Now, you must know, 
This Doctor Crow 
Was not of Law, nor Music, nor Divinity ;— 
He was obstetrick ; but, the fact is, 
He didn't in Lueina's turnpike practices ; 
He took bye-roads — reducing ladies shapes , 
Who had secured themselves from leading apes, 
But keep the reputation of virginity. 

Crow had a roomy tenement of brick, 

Inclosed with walls, one mile from Hyde Park corner* 
Fir trees, and yews, were planted round it, thick ;— 

No situation was i'orlorner !* 
Yet, notwithstanding folks might scout it, 
It suited qualmish Spinsters, who fell sick, 
And didn't wish the world to know about it. 

Here many a single gentlewoman came, 

Pro tempore, — full tender of her fame ! 

Who, for a while, took leave of friends in town— 

' Business, forsooth ! to Yorkshire call d her down, 

' Too weighty to be settled by Attorney I' 
And, in a month's., or six week's time come back : 
When every body cried, • Good lack !' 

' How monstrous thin you've grown, upon your journ- 
ney !' 

* This seems to be a new comparative ; for v 
Author takes to himself due credit ;— Novelty lx.-i 
ia poetical compositions. 



148 

This Doctor knowing that a puff of scandal 

Would blow his private trade to tatters, 
Dreaded to give the smallest handle 

To those who dabbled in their neighbours' mattel^T 
Therefore, he, wisely, held it good 
To hide his practice from the neighbourhood-;— 
And not appear, there, as a resident ; 
But merely one who, casually, went 
To see the lodgers, in the large brick house •— 
To lounge, and chat.- not minding time a souse ;— 
Like one to whom all business was quite foreign-;—* 
And, thus, he visited his female sick ; 
Who lay as thick, 
Within his tenement of brick, 

As rabbits in a wamn. 

He lodged in Covent Garden, all the while, 
And, if they sent, in haste, for his assistanee, 

He soon was with 'em— 'twas no mighty distan<!e— 
From the town's end it was but a bare mile. 

Now Isaac Shove, 
Living above 

This Doctor Crow, 
And knowing Barber Twizzle lived below,. 

Thought it might be as well, 
Hearing so many knocks, single and double, 
To buy, at his own cost, a street-door-bell, 
And save confusion, in the house, and trouble; 

Whereby, his (Isaac's) visitors might know, 

Without long waiting in the dirt, and drizzle, 
To ring for him at once :— and not to knock for Cr<jjy } - 
Nor Twizzle. 



140 

Besides, he now began to feel 
The want of it was ra> her ungenteel ; 

For he had, often thought it a disgrace 
To hear, while setting in his room, above, 

Twizzle's shrill maid, on the first landing place, 
Screaming, "a man below vants Mister Shove !" 

The Bell was bought; the wire was made to steal 
Round the dark stair-case, like a tortured eel,— 

Twisting, and twining ; 
The jemmy handle Twizzle's door-post graced, 
And, just beneath, a brazen plate was placed, 

Lacquer'dand shining ;— 

Graven whereon, in characters full clear, 
And legible, did " Mr. Shove ' appear ; 
And furthermore, which you might read right Well, 
Was " Please to ring the bell." *, 

At half past ten, precisely, to a second, 
Shove, every night, his supper ended ; 
And sipp'd iiis glass of negus, till he reckon'd, 
By his stop-watch, exactly one more quarter ; 
Then, as ■ xactly, he untied one garter ;— 
A token 'twas that he for bed intended : 

Yet, having still, a quarter good before him, 
Hi leisurely unilress'd before the fire,— 
Contriving, as the quarter di; 1 expire, 

To be as naked as his mother bore him ; 

Bating his shirt, and night-cap on his head ;— 
Then, as the watchman bawl'd eleven, 

Tie had one foot in bed, 
More crrUiuiy than cuckolds go to Ilea', en". 



, 150 

Alas ! what pity 'tis that regularity, 

Like Isaac Shove's, is such a rarity ! 
But there are swilling Wights, in London towltt, 

Term'd— Jolly Dogs. Choice Spirits,— alias, Swine ; 
Who pour, in midnight revel, bumpers down, 

Making their throats a thoroughfare for wine, 

These spendthrifts, who Life's pleasures, thus,out-rflnj 
Dosing, with headaches, till the afternoon, 

Lose half men's regular estate of Sun, 
By borrowing, too largely, of the Moon. 

One of this kidney,— Toby Tosspot hight,— 
Was coming from the Bedford, late at night ; 
And being Baechi plenusj— full of wine,— 
Although he had a tolerable notion 
Of aiming at progressive motion 
'Twasn't direct,— 'twas serpentine. 
>Ie work'd, with sinuosities, along, 

Like Monsieur Corkscrew, worming thro' a Cork; 
Not straight like Corkscrew's proxy, stiff Don Pron£, 
A Fork. 

At length , with near four bottles in hi* pate, 

He saw the moon shining on Shove's brass plate : 

When reading " Please to ring the hell,'-* 

And being civil, beyond measure, 
11 Ring it !" Says Toby—" very well ; 

" I'll ring it with a ileal of pleasure/' 

Toby, the kindest soul in all the town, 
Gave it a jerk that almost jevk'd it dow* 



151 

He waited full tw© minutes ; no one eawie ; 

He waited full two minutes more;— and then, 4 ?- 
Says Toby, « if he's deaf, I'm not to blame ; 

I'll pull it for the gentleman again." 

But the first peal 'woke Isaac, in a fright, 
Who, quick as lightning, popping up his head, 

Sat on his head's Antipodes, in bed,— 
Pale as a parsnip,— bolt upright. 

At length, he, wisely, to himself did say, 

Calming his fears,— 
" Tush ! 'tis some fool has rung, and run away ;*— 
When peal the second rattled in his ears ] 

Shove jurop'd into the middle of the floor ; 
And trembling at each breath of air that stirr'd, 

He groped down stairs, and opened the street door 3 
While Toby was performing peal the third. 

Isaac eyed Toby, fearfully askant,— 
And saw he was a strapper,— stout and tall : 

Then put this question;-' Pray, sir, what d'ye want? 
Says Toby,—* I want nothing, sir, at all.' 

"Want nothing .'-Sir, you've pull'd my bell, I votv, 

As if you'd jerk it oiT the wire !" 
Qnoth Toby,— gravely making him a bow— 

" I pull'd it, sir, at your desire."' 

«' At mine I"— « Yes your's-I hope I've done it well; 

High time for lied, sir; I was hast'ning to it ; 
But if you write up please to ring the bell, 

Common politeness makes me stop, and do it." 



152 

Isaac, now, waxing wroth apace, 
Slamm'd the street door in Toby's face, 

With all his might ; 
And Toby, as he shut it, swore 
He was a dirty son of— something more 

Than delicacy suffers me to write ; 

And, lifting up the knocker, gave a knock, 

So long, and loud, it might have raised the dead 

Twizzle declares his house sustain d a shock, 
Enough to shake his lodgers out of bed. 

Toby, his rage thus vented in the rap, 
Went serpentining home to take his nap. 

'Tis, now, high time to let you know 
That the obstetrick Doctor Crow 
Awoke in the beginning of this matter, 
By Tobys tintinndbulary clatter : 

And, knowing that the bell belonged to Shove, 
He listen'd in his bed, but did not move; 
He only did apostrophize— 
Sending to hell 
Shove, and his bell, 
That wouldn't let him close his eyes. 

But when he heard a thundering knock,— says he, 
" That's, certainly, a messenger for me ;— 

Somebody ill, in the Brick House, no do 
Then mutterM, hurrying on his dressing-gown. 
" I wish my ladies, out of town, 

Chose more convenient times for crying out < ' 



153 

Crow, in the dark, now, reach 'd the staircase head , 
Shove, in the dark, was coming up to bed, 

A combination of ideas flocking, 
Upon the pericranium of Crow,— 

Occa ion'd by the hasty knocking, 
Succeeded by a foot he heard below ;*» 

He did as many folks are apt to do, 

Who argue in the dark, and in confusion ;— 
That is, from the hypothesis, he drew 

A false conclusion ; 
Concluding Shove to be the person sent, 
With an express from the brick tenement ■, 
Whom Barber Twizzle, torturer of hairs, 
Had, civilly, let in, and sent up stairs. 

As Shove came up, tho' he had, long time kept 
His character, for patience, very laudably, 

He couldn't help, at every step he stepp'd, 
Grunting, and grumbling in his gizzard, audibK 

For Isaac's mental feelings, you must know 

Not only were considerably hurt , 
But his corporeal, also— 

Having no other cloathing than a 
K dress, beyond all doubt, most Kgbt awl ai : - 

It being, then, a frost in January . 

When Shove was deep down stairs, 

(Being much nearer the stair top) 
Juat here and there, a random void. 

Of the Soliloquies that Shove fet drop j - 



154 

But, shortly, by progression brought 

To contact nearer, 

The Doctor consequently, heard him clearer,— 
And then the fag-end of this sentence caught : 

Which Shove repeated warmly, tho' he shiver'd :— 

" Damn Twizzle s house ! and damn the Bell ! 

And damn the Fool who rang it .'—Well, 
From all such plagues I'll quickly be deliver'd." 
f ' What .'—quickly be deliver'd !" echoes Crow ;— 

" Who is it .'—Come, be sharp— reply reply ; 
Who wants to be deliver'd .' let me know." 

Recovering his surprise, Shove answer'd, " I ;" 

"You be deliver'd?" says the Doctor,—" 'Sblood !" 
Hearing a man's gruff voice— " You lout! ycu lob !" 
• * You be deliver'd !— Come, that 's very good !" 
Says Shove, " I will, so help me Bob !" 

11 Fellow," cried Crow, " you're drunk with filthy beer ; 

A drunkard, fellow, is a brute's next neighbour ;— 
But Miss Cloghorty's time was very near, 

And, I suppose, Lucretia's now, in labour." 

" Zounds !" bellows Shove, with rage, and wonder wild, 
" Why, then my maiden Aunt is big with child .'" 

Here was, at once, a sad discovery made ! 

Lucretia's frolick, now, was past a yoke ;— 
Shove trembled, for his Fortune, Crow, his Trade,— 

Both, both saw ruin,— by one fatal joke ! 
But, with hh Aunt, when Isaac did discuss, 
She hush'd the matter up, by speaking thus :— 



155 

^ Sweet Isaac .'""said Lwcretia ; " Sparc my FameL— 
'Tho\ for my babe, I feel as should a mother, 

Y«ur fortune will continue much the same ; 
For,— keep the Secret— you're his ElderBrother," 



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